


First Degree Snippets

by elphiemolizbethbau



Series: In the First Degree [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elphiemolizbethbau/pseuds/elphiemolizbethbau
Summary: A catalog of one-shots that exist within the universe of my Rolivia story "In the First Degree." Ratings will vary and trigger warnings apply. I take requests!
Relationships: Olivia Benson/Amanda Rollins
Series: In the First Degree [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747303
Comments: 54
Kudos: 33





	1. "Well, that ends now."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is @faceinbud.  
> I hope everyone is still safe and healthy! We get through this together by staying apart.  
> Hello First Degree fans! I’m back with the first one-shot, where Alex discloses to Olivia. I’ve missed this story, so I’m excited to get back to it. I’ve also started a Cabenson fic called Stay. And I have to say, I’m already in love with it. I’d be honored if you read it.  
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 1: Alex discloses to Olivia

Amanda looked up to see Liv entering their bedroom, and after a long day of nothing but studying, the brunette was a sight for sore eyes. But she only looked up for a moment, returning to the article in front of her. “Hey, how was work?”

Olivia approached her wife, letting her fingernails scrape lightly against her scalp while she pressed a kiss to her temple. Rule number one in the Benson household was “Never distract Amanda with a kiss while she’s trying to pass her first semester of law school.” A brush against her hairline would have to satiate the older woman for now. “Good. How’s studying going?”

“It’s good. Did you know it’s illegal to release twenty-five or more helium balloons in Suffolk County?”

“Wow.” Olivia chuckled, hovering over Amanda’s laptop. “Just fascinating. I can’t wait for your first balloon case.” The sergeant sat next to the blonde on the bed, pulling off her shoes and sighing at the new freedom of her constricted feet. “So, Alex wanted to get dinner. Do you want to come with us?”

Amanda squinted in surprise for a moment. Alex was getting really good at accepting invitations to socialize, but she still didn’t often extend them. Still, the law student knew that any time the ADA found the strength to get out of her own head and reach out to one of her friends, the opportunity should be seized at all costs. “Oh, no. I have quite a bit of work to do here. But you go. I’ll order Chinese or something.”

Liv lifted her wife’s extended legs and rested them on her lap, taking a few moments to massage her feet. Amanda had been working part-time at the precinct, just three days a week, which was only financially possible for the couple because of Olivia’s promotion, and the younger woman was absolutely loving law school, but she didn’t love the long hours of nothing but reading. She knew she had to learn the law before she could practice it, but the brunette could tell that Amanda sometimes felt trapped at home. “You sure you don’t want to get out of the house? I’m sure Alex could help you study.”

“Yeah,” Amanda stressed. The last thing she wanted was to fill a pleasant evening for the attorney with statutes and precedents. She needed to just be a person sometimes, and the younger blonde was happy to facilitate that. “I’ll see you later.”

Finally, she leaned forward to capture Olivia’s lips in hers, letting them linger for longer than usual and surrendering to the warmth of gratitude and love. Her wife had been so supportive of her the past year and a half since her assault, and Amanda was acutely aware that she didn’t have the words to express her appreciation. A kiss usually sufficed. 

“Time to put my shoes back on,” Olivia grumbled, groaning as she bent over to receive said items.

"You can wear something more comfortable,” Amanda suggested with a light laugh, setting her laptop aside and scooting forward on the bed, reaching out a hand to massage the tense muscles of her wife’s shoulder blades. “You must be exhausted. This case has been hard on all of us. I’m sure Alex would understand if you wanted to take a rain check.”

“No, I really do need to go somewhere other than the station. Besides, I think Alex wanted to talk about something.”

“About the case?” she asked.

“Not sure. But you know how Alex gets with ‘he said/she said’s.”

It was a pattern Amanda had noticed fairly early on in her tenure with SVU. Any case involving shaky circumstantial evidence where the ‘she didn’t say no’ argument came up completely drove the attorney off the wall. Rollins didn’t blame her. Sexual assault was the only crime where the victim was often questioned more harshly than the alleged perpetrator, the only crime where people wondered if the victim wanted it to happen. It was infuriating to anyone involved in the investigation of these offenses, but for survivors, it was downright agonizing. Amanda knew that Cabot hadn’t told Olivia about what had happened to her in her twenties yet, but she figured the time would come sooner rather than later, with the Me Too movement gaining traction by the month. The blonde shrugged. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll be a good sounding board for her.”

After one more sweet kiss, Olivia left the apartment, driving to a local restaurant where she knew the ADA would be waiting. Early was on time and on time was late in the Cabot family, and the woman hadn’t managed to un-condition herself as she aged. Good thing the habit came in handy with her profession. The younger woman waved her friend over, and soon the women were chatting easily over a bottle of chardonnay. Alex had begun drinking again in small amounts, but only at social events with few people and definitely only when she trusted each individual in attendance. Clearly, Olivia met those requirements.

They ate their food in silence for several minutes, but soon the casual air around them grew heavy, and Olivia could tell Alex was struggling with something. “This case seems to be bothering you even more than usual.”

Damn Sergeant Benson and her fifteen years of getting people to talk. “I just hate when defendants claim that an established relationship is an excuse for rape, or that rape can’t exist within the confines of a marriage. An intimate relationship should feel safe, should be safe. You should never have to fear for your safety—physical, emotional, sexual. The person you’re dating should love you, respect you. I just don’t understand. I don’t care that he’s dating her—her body doesn’t belong to him!” A few diners in the restaurant looked towards the duo as Cabot’s voice grew heavy with vitriol, so she intentionally checked her tone, leaning towards the other woman. “It’s fucking mindboggling.”

It was no secret that Alex was passionate about the cases she tried, but Olivia could count on one hand the amount of times she had outright yelled about one in her presence. The Roy Barnett case was one. Amanda’s was another. “Sounds like you have your closing statement written.”

Alex sighed. She hadn’t planned this, and she knew Olivia would never try to force it out of her, but she also wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that the brunette already suspected something. All cases bothered Cabot to some degree. She firmly believed that a prosecutor needed to be deeply invested in the outcomes of the cases they tried, lest the victims they fought for not got the justice they deserved. But there was a clear pattern here, and she was more than aware that Liv was a talented cop who would be able to tell when there was more to the story. There was really no point in keeping this secret any longer. She had people like Amanda and Olivia in her life, and they would certainly be on her side. So why was it still so hard to say the words? How difficult must it have been for Amanda to testify about her assault if Alex was finding it near impossible to disclose to one of her best friends? “Do you remember when you came to tell me that Casey wanted to say hi at the wedding, and it looked like I was crying?”

“Yes, of course. Amanda said you guys had a heart to heart.”

The blonde worried her lower lip, sipping her water in order to afford herself more time to think. “Did she ever tell you what we talked about?” she asked nervously, setting her glass down.

Olivia shook her head, recalling her conversation with her wife. “No, it was clear you were talking in confidence. I never asked, and she never offered anything up.”

“Long version or short version?”

Benson’s eyes widened. The long version or short version of what? “I…uh,” she stammered, “whichever you want to tell me.”

Alex should have expected that. She laughed a mirthless laugh, drinking from her glass once more, this time choosing the one containing alcohol. “Basically, there’s a reason these cases make me crazy.”

“Oh, Alex, they make me crazy, too,” Liv argued. 

“You also have a reason.”

Point and counterpoint. 

“Look, Liv, I—I clearly have a habit of making happy occasions awkward. Call me ‘Buzzkill Cabot.’”

Olivia covered her friend’s frantically moving hand with her own. “Alex,” she said softly, searching for eye contact. “Whatever it is—just tell me. You know you can tell me anything.” She squeezed the hand that she now held in hers, and when the attorney finally looked up at her, her tearful expression said it all.

“So, Amanda already knows this, but don’t be mad at her because I made her promise not to tell you. The short of it is that I had a boyfriend while I was in law school. Well, it was about to be an arranged marriage. His name was Conrad, and his drink of choice was vodka. And his favorite hangover cure was…sex.” She let the word float in the air, stressing it to ensure Liv knew she wasn’t really referring to sex. 

“Alex—”

“Please let me finish before I change my mind.” She waited for a nod before inhaling deeply. “It lasted about six months. And he drank almost every night. Eventually, it was just something I expected as part of my nightly routine. Shower. Brush my teeth. Get in bed. Stare at the ceiling. I knew on some level that it was wrong, but I couldn’t imagine that it was illegal. We were dating, and I didn’t tell him no.”

“But you also didn’t—”

“—tell him yes, I know. Why do you think I’ve fought so hard for affirmative consent? I know what he did to me was rape. But a jury would have reasonable doubt.”

Olivia didn’t exactly see this coming, but she definitely wasn’t surprised. She had so many questions on the tip of her tongue—How long ago was this? Did you tell anyone? Where is this son of a bitch now?—but she knew the results wouldn’t be fruitful, so she simply squeezed her friend’s hand. “And with Amanda’s trial and everything, you still kept it to yourself?”

“I was embarrassed, Olivia. A sex crimes prosecutor who wouldn’t admit she’d been raped? I have a chance to make chief ADA soon. I want to run for District Attorney. I’d only be the second woman, after Nora Lewin. I don’t want to be seen as a hypocrite.”

“Alex, you have every right to come forward at the time and in the way that feels right for you. I just hate that you’ve carried this with you for all these years.”

Cabot smiled. It was a sad smile, but there was a twinge of hope to it, a hint of relief, of power. “Well, that ends now.”


	2. "You never let me take care of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is @faceinbud.  
> I hope everyone is still safe and healthy! We get through this together by staying apart.  
> Hihi! Decided to take a break from Stay, which I’ve been writing like a mad person, and write a one-shot for you all. In this one, Olivia is sick and Amanda takes care of her. Please send in requests for one-shots. I have a short list, but I don’t want to run out!  
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 2: Olivia has a cold

The lieutenant knew it immediately upon waking up. All the telltale signs were there—a scratchy throat, runny nose, a cough that produced enough mucus to fill a small lake. She was obviously sick, but she intentionally ignored the symptoms as she went about her morning, hoping that she’d feel better as the day went on. Her hope was fading fast though because she was feeling sicker by the second. She was just grateful it was Saturday, the day she usually took off from SVU unless something emergent was happening.

“Good mornin’,” Amanda chirped upon her wife’s arrival in the kitchen, a little confused when the brunette turned away from the kiss she offered so that the younger woman’s lips just lightly grazed her cheek.

As soon as Olivia spoke, however, all speculation was gone. “Morning,” she croaked weakly, a sheepish smile quirking the corners of her lips upwards at the face the blonde gave her.

“Olivia.” Amanda couldn’t recall the last time the other woman had been visibly sick. But in addition to the frog in her throat, Liv also had a red nose, watery eyes, clammy skin, and an overall slouched demeanor. The detective took the one necessary step to close the distance between them, watching as Benson winced at their closeness, and she placed the back of her hand over the sniffling woman’s forehead. “You have a fever,” she announced.

“’Manda, I’m fi—” Her weak claim was interrupted by a sneeze that resonated through the house.

“Baby, please. It’s okay,” Amanda insisted, knowing the older woman would be self-conscious. Olivia was used to being the strong one. Ever since her childhood, she’d been the caretaker, providing for her mother through her alcoholism, becoming a cop and protecting the public, supporting Amanda through her ordeal, giving love to the kids they were lucky enough to have in their home. It was extraordinarily unnatural for the brunette to accept any form of assistance, and Rollins felt the uneasiness waft off of her. She, herself, had been itching to care for another human being as the two women were experiencing their own version of empty nest syndrome due to their last set of foster kids, a sibling group of three, going back home. "You never let me take care of you."

"I don't want to get you sick." The brunette knew her wife wasn’t only referring to the times she was unwell. Amanda was clearly pointing out that Liv never asked for comfort, which the younger woman didn’t blame her for. She too had developed her own arsenal of maladaptive coping strategies. It came with the territory of having a turbulent childhood.

The detective was prepared to shoot down this argument. She always was. "Honey, I've been so close to you these past few days that if I'm gonna get sick, then I'm just gonna get sick." Amanda guided her back towards the bedroom, wrapping an arm around her waist tenderly.

Olivia paused outside their bedroom door, defiantly placing her hands on her hips. "So you're just gonna give up? Bet that's what killed everybody during the Spanish flu."

"Actually,” the blonde pointed out, “what killed most people during the Spanish flu was that when World War I ended, people were so excited that they took to the streets in thousands, spreading the virus like wildfire."

Benson conceded their mini-debate, dropping her hands from her hips in surrender and wonder at her wife’s vast expanse of knowledge. "How do you know that?"

Amanda smiled sweetly, continuing to usher the woman towards their bed. "It's my job to know things. Let me grab you some meds."

"Don't you have to study?" the lieutenant asked, sitting on the edge and refusing to get herself situated in the bed. She wasn’t ready to give up. "You have the bar coming up soon."

"Nah, I can get Alex to help me catch up later." The blonde sorted through their medicine cabinet, retrieving three bottles. 

"Don't you think she's busy with her election?" the older woman called from the bedroom, determined to find an argument that Amanda couldn’t rebut. 

Rollins returned then, reaching out with her free hand to delicately brush some hair away from her stubborn wife’s face, proud of herself when she closed her eyes at the touch. Olivia had always been such an amazing anchor and support to fall back on, but she deserved to be given the same love and compassion. She was actually kind of cute when she was sick, not that Amanda enjoyed watching the other woman suffer. "Won't know if I don't ask."

As the law school graduate continued to run her fingers through damp, sweaty hair, she could tell that the other woman’s resolve was weakening, but she had one last—albeit far-fetched—trick up her sleeve, and the desperation in her tone was clear. "But you love studying."

Amanda scratched at the woman’s scalp, humming to cue her to open her eyes, and she held out some pills in the palm of her hand—benadryl, ibuprofen, and mucus relief. "Not more than I love you. You're not gonna win this argument, babe."

Liv groaned. “Fine. You win.” Reluctantly, Benson took the medication from her wife, swallowing it down with some water on her nightstand. “But I don't want to rest. I have work to do,” she continued petulantly moments before coughs racked her body at such a strength that her entire form shook.

Amanda gingerly sat down next to her, her fingers drawing wide circles on the coughing woman’s back as she cooed comforting phrases into her ear. When her breathing had returned to normal, the blonde wrapped an arm entirely around her, leaning the lieutenant’s head against her chest and kissing her temple. "You know Fin and Carisi got you covered. You're just a pile of excuses today."

Olivia shrugged weakly in surrender, exhaustion overwhelming her. "Guilty,” she murmured in a scratchy voice. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I just feel pathetic and puny."

"Liv. You're not pathetic and puny. You're strong and everyone knows that. You just have a bad cold.” When the older woman’s eyes fluttered closed as she rested against Amanda, the detective knew she was fading fast, so she carefully lifted Olivia off of her, standing up and folding down the comforter all the way. “C'mon, let's get some rest." 

She remained still, her last attempt at protest. "You might have to handcuff me to the bed first." 

Amanda chuckled, guiding the woman’s head down onto the pillow. To make a joke like that, there’s no way she wasn’t at least somewhat out of it. Still, the blonde decided to play along. "Don't make me horny while you're sick. You know how irritable I get.” Benson just grunted as she gripped onto the pillow, holding on for dear life. Amanda didn’t even know why or how her wife managed to get out of bed earlier. She lifted her feet slightly in order to pull a portion of the blanket out from under her. “Let's go, baby. Under the covers. I’ll bring you some juice and some toast,” she added after the slightly shivering woman was tucked in, the blonde’s fingertips tracing patterns on her arm. 

She stood up to get Olivia the items she’d promised her, but she was stopped by a strained voice as she reached the doorway. “Amanda?”

The sound of the lieutenant saying her name never got old, and the sweet cadence of the way she called out to her now melted Amanda’s heart. It should have always been like this. Insisting that Liv allow  
her to care for her when she was struggling was a hill that Rollins was willing to die on. “Yes, honey?”

A soft sniffle came from under the covers. “Can you just stay with me for a little while?”

Amanda smiled. Juice and toast would have to wait. She climbed under the comforter beside Olivia, pulling her close and wrapping an arm around her from behind. She pressed a kiss right behind her ear, humming quietly. “Of course. I’m right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you liked this quick snippet. I wanted to show how Olivia resists vulnerability, but her attempts to keep going on as normal are easily quelled by Amanda’s stubbornness. Please let me know what you think and if you have any requests, send them my way!


	3. "I'm gonna hold her hand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is @faceinbud.  
> I hope everyone is still safe and healthy! We get through this together by staying apart.  
> Well, I was thinking about the episode “911” which is one of my favorites, and…this happened. EXTRA trigger warning. Explicit discussion of the abuse of children.  
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 3: Olivia and Amanda meet the twins

Amanda only had a few weeks left in SVU. It wasn’t a complete goodbye because she knew she was just moving to 1 Hogan Place, but she knew she would miss her desk in the bullpen, having her friends as coworkers every day, and having Olivia in a nearby office. Alex had just won her election for DA, and the plan was to seamlessly move the detective into her old position. Cabot had planned on making the younger woman her first hire anyway, and now that she’d passed the bar, it was time to start transitioning. 

The sound of Olivia’s voice as she exited her office brought Amanda out of her thoughts. "Amanda."

She looked up. "Yeah?"

Benson grabbed her coat and passed one to her wife. "They need us down at 911 dispatch."

When they arrived, the two women met a young 911 dispatcher. “Benson and Rollins?” The cops nodded in the affirmative, each reaching out to shake the woman’s hand. “My name is Mei Lin Wang. I’m team lead today. Need you all on a case."

Both women were confused as they followed Mei Lin to her station. This wasn't proper protocol for enlisting SVU's help. Olivia cleared her throat. "Who's the vic?"

"That's part of why we need your help.” She pressed play on the recording of a recent 911 call.

"Hello? Police? Help us! Daddy's coming!" 

“There are two voices,” Amanda observed. 

Mei Lin nodded. “Two kids. They sound young. Maybe six.”

"Well, were you able to get an address?" Olivia inquired, looking at the screen in front of the dispatcher as she spoke.

"Call only lasted ten seconds. It was bouncing off of these cell towers,” she explained to both women, pointing at the indications on the computer, “but we couldn't pinpoint an exact location. We’re hoping they’ll call back."

A voice from across the room called out, “Mei! We got ‘em. Call came in seconds ago. They’re on line four.”

Amanda and Mei Lin deferred to Benson, as she was the commanding officer. “We don’t know exactly what’s happening, but they sound absolutely terrified, so we need to find them as quickly as possible. We can bring in the rest of the team after we ensure they’re safe.”

The detective nodded. “I’m gonna try to keep them talkin’ as long as possible. You all work on triangulating the call.” Amanda gestured for Mei Lin to answer the call, and she did, looking to the blonde for guidance. “Hi guys. My name is Amanda. Can you tell me where you are?”

“In our house,” a small voice replied. 

“That’s great. What can you tell us about your house?”

The other voice piped up, “It’s by a tree!”

Kids always tried to be helpful, but it was hard for the young ones to understand exactly what the cops were looking for. Amanda sighed. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep these children on the phone, especially if their father was indeed dangerous. “What else do you see when you look outside?”

The same kid who informed Amanda about the tree said that when they looked outside, they could see the sky. “How old are you guys?” she gently asked, realizing they were likely younger than the three women had originally assumed.

“Four and three quarters,” the same voice as before announced. “But I’m nine minutes older than my sister.”

Amanda took stock of what they knew. So, they were dealing with four-year-old twins. And at least one of them was a girl. “Wow, you guys are really big, calling us for help. We’re tryin’ to find you, so anything you can tell us about where you live would really help.”

“We used to have a swingse—” the more vocal of the two began to say, being cut off by the younger twin, who proceeded to begin yelling at him in broken Spanish.

Amanda looked at Liv, who shook her head to indicate that she couldn’t make out what she was saying. She concluded, “Tony, Miss ‘Manda wants our ‘dress,” she concluded. Okay, so there was one boy and one girl. The boy’s name was Tony. “Mama teached us to know our ‘dress. We live at…” her voice trailed off, the connection becoming weak.

“What’s that sweetie?”

Olivia turned her attention to Mei Lin who was furiously typing on her keyboard. “You got them yet?”

“I’m close,” she replied. “Just a few more seconds.”

Amanda anxiously tapped her fingers against the desk, leaning over to get closer to the speaker. “Sweetie, can you tell us your address again?” 

The girl repeated herself, this time more clearly, moments before Mei Lin nodded her head, pointing at the screen. “Got ‘em. It’s the same address. Need the apartment number.”

“Tony, do you know what number is on your front door?”

“Six,” he replied, the pride in his voice masked by fear.

Olivia instantly began typing the address into her phone, sending it out to Fin and Carisi for back up. Amanda leaned once more into the speaker. “We’re coming, you guys. Stay right where you are.”

“Hurry!” the little girl begged, and the women recognized the same terror as the first 911 call. “We’re in the baf-room, and Daddy wants to come in.” 

Amanda looked at Mei Lin, muting the speaker for a moment. “Stay on the phone with them, and keep them calm. If the father enters the bathroom, try to diffuse the situation.”

“Got it,” she responded, hitting the unmute button. “Guys, my name is Mei, and I’m gonna be talking to you until Amanda and her friends get there. I know one of you is Tony, but what’s your name, sweetheart?”

The girl cried three syllables into the phone as the detective and the lieutenant raced out of the dispatch center. 

Fin and Carisi arrived moments after the two women, who quickly briefed them on the situation. The arrest was actually pretty easy, the man surrendering immediately upon contact with the four cops. The men read him his rights and escorted him out of the apartment, Amanda and Olivia staying behind to take care of the twins. “Hi guys,” Amanda whispered to the two children, who were huddled together on the bathroom floor.

A pair of gasps escaped the children as the little girl chanced looking up. “Amanda?” she asked fearfully.

“Mhm. It’s me. This is my friend Olivia.”

“Is she nice?”

Amanda nodded. “She’s very nice.”

Both women knelt in front of the kids, and Liv offered them a smile. “I’m Olivia. What are your names?”

“I’m Tony, and this is my sister Francesca.”

“Oh, that’s a beautiful name. Francesca, can I see your phone?” The little girl smiled at the compliment, uncurling just slightly from her ball, so she could hand the cell phone to Olivia, who told Mei Lin that the twins were safe, thanked her for her help, and then hung up. “What do you guys think about riding in a police car with us?”

“Where’s Daddy?” The small girl’s lip quivered, and Amanda shared a knowing look with her wife. This was bad.

“Daddy’s gone, sweetie. He’s not here, anymore. He won’t hurt you. We’re just gonna go somewhere else to talk.”

Tony followed his sister’s lead, sitting up taller. “Is the police car fast?”

Olivia chuckled. “It’s kind of fast.”

“Francesca?” the boy asked, as if he planned to follow her lead.

“Olivia and Amanda are nice,” she proclaimed, standing up confidently and agreeing to go with them. When they arrived at the station, they were set up in an interview room, where Amanda asked the two kids about their father, whose phone Francesca had stollen in order to call for help. “He’s not our real Dad.”

“No?”

“He just takes care of us,” Tony told them.

“What’s his name?” Benson asked softly.

“Mr. Johnson.” The girl looked down at the floor, her sneaker tapping anxiously against the leg of the chair she was sitting on, the creaking of the old piece of furniture the only other sound in the room for several seconds. “But he wants us to call him ‘Daddy.’” The two women shared another knowing glance. 

After a few more minutes of interviewing, Olivia emerged from the room, seeking an update on the investigation. 

“So, ‘Daddy’ is actually their foster father. Christopher Johnson,” Carisi read from a sheet of paper, “charged with sexual conduct against a child in the second degree in Jersey in ‘09. She was five-years-old. He pled out to a misdemeanor.”

The lieutenant crossed her arms over her chest, anger burning her cheeks. “If he has a background, how did he get custody of two young children, including a four-year-old girl?”

“Through a privatized service. They pay the foster parents to keep the kids in their care, and they can accumulate quite a profit. They knew Johnson as John Kristofferson, who doesn’t have a record.”

Olivia was fuming. He had used an alias in order to abuse more children, something that indicated Francesca was not his second victim. “So, this privatized foster care service doesn’t vet their clients?”

Fin shook his head. If they didn’t vet their clients, it was completely due to lack of trying. “It took me five seconds and a search through one criminal database to find this guy with a photo, Liv.”

“Five seconds could have saved those kids a whole world of hurt.”

The senior detective approached his lieutenant and placed a hand on her arm, knowing this was going to be a sensitive subject. The squad room never completely returned to “normal” after Amanda’s rape. Every vic, every perp, every hospital interview, every court case carried with it a thicker air, one that was harder to breathe. “Lieu. We should get a rape kit on the girl at least.”

Benson sighed, looking back at her wife through the one-way mirror of the interview room. She was still talking to the twins. Francesca was even smiling and laughing. “I don’t think Amanda will agree to  
that.”

“Amanda doesn’t have custody of them. The state does.”

Liv knew what the blonde’s response would be. “Not yet.”

Carisi stepped forward, placing the file in his hands down onto one of the desks. “Social services are on their way. Ultimately, it’ll be up to them. She seems to have bonded with Rollins. Might be a good idea to get her on board.”

“I’ll go talk to her.” This wasn’t going to be easy. She knocked on the door and waited for the younger woman to open it. “’Manda, can we talk in private for a minute please?”

“Sure,” the soon-to-be ADA answered, gesturing for a female uni to watch the kids. “I’ll be right back, guys.”

After the brunette had led her into a separate interview room, Amanda began rambling. “Hey, so I was thinking—maybe we can take the twins. At least until social services can find them a good placement. I would just sleep a lot better tonight knowing they were safe.”

Olivia wondered why she wasn’t expecting this. From the moment the woman and the little girl had made eye contact, there was a connection there, and it wasn’t as if the older of the two didn’t also think the kids were incredible. The little boy was so brave and still such a kid. How he held on to that innocence in the face of such adversity was beyond the lieutenant. But did they have a home that could support their healing? Rollins was about to start a new job. Would they be able to care for such small children? They had only fostered one child younger than the twins before, a newborn baby girl that found permanent placement within a month. “Amanda, one of the things I love so much about you is how big your heart is, but we already have a kiddo at home.”

“I know,” she conceded. “And I love Josh as if he were my own son. But we’ve had three kids in our care before, and this is why we got licensed to begin with. They’ve already been failed by the system, Liv, are we really goin’ to send them right back into it?”

What an astute point. Sometimes Olivia resented how good Amanda was at pulling such a convincing argument out of her ass because it caused her to lose every petty fight they had—usually nothing big, just Chinese v. tacos or this dress v. this suit. Every once in a while, something more important would come up—like The People v. Johnson—and though Liv didn’t actually want to win this dispute, she hated the reality of the situation. “We’d have to step down from the investigation.”

“I don’t care.” Amanda was resolute. “Fin and Carisi are in it. We have officers who can help. Alex hasn’t been sworn in yet. I’m sure she could sit first chair if she wanted.”

“We can talk about it,” she eventually agreed, but the smile on her face revealed that most of the talking was done. She took a deep breath, knowing this next part of the conversation was going to be difficult. “But Francesca is going to be hungry and thirsty soon, and we’re running out of time to get her to the hospital.”

Her smile dropped instantly, and the detective crossed her arms protectively over her body. “Olivia, she’s four-years-old.”

“Amanda, he’s done this before.”

“So, we can use prior bad acts to establish a pattern.”

“These kids aren’t swearable.”

“No.” Olivia said nothing in response, watching the wheels turn in her wife’s head through her crystal-clear blue eyes. “If I get custody of Francesca and Anthony, I will not sign a consent for a rape kit. I’m sorry, Liv. I was thirty-three-years old; I knew what was happening, and I still have nightmares about it. I will not put her through that under any circumstances.”

Benson’s initial instinct was to reach out and comfort the woman she loved. Amanda could usually handle one of their vics getting a kit done with little difficulty. Kids were harder. The thought of a child this young going through a rape exam was excruciating. But she always knew it was necessary, and she’d never resisted a trip to the hospital so vehemently. Olivia knew her wife was hooked. She was already too attached to these kids to think objectively. “See,” the older woman pointed out gently, “this is why we shouldn’t take them. You’re already overly emotional about this. You’re not thinking about what’s best for her in the long term.”

“In the long term?” She rolled her eyes. It was rare for Amanda to raise her voice at Olivia. They really didn’t fight ever, not in the traditional sense at least. Rollins also never used her wife’s lack of experience against her, but here, in this moment, she didn’t have the practical empathy to understand why Amanda was giving the prospect an unequivocal no. “In the long term, it’ll be best for her to not have some stranger poking at her for hours! How do we explain to a four-year-old, ‘What Daddy did was wrong, but this, which will hurt, is okay.’ How do we do that, Liv? How?”

It hadn’t been kids in quite some time. And now, as the fifth anniversary of Amanda’s assault was coming up later in the year, her wounds were especially raw. Olivia understood as much as she could. “I don’t know, baby. I’m sorry. I know I don’t have the perspective you do. But I want that man to rot in jail.”

After a pregnant pause, Amanda finally relented with a heavy sigh. She wanted the same thing. “When social services get here, let’s take them to the hospital and make sure they don’t have any injuries. We can go from there. See how they’re holdin’ up. I won’t let them do the entire kit, but maybe we can get something.”

Liv squeezed her wife’s bicep, communicating that even though they were just passionately arguing, things were okay between them. “I think that’s a fair compromise.”

After a doctor’s examination and X-rays confirmed that neither twin had serious injuries, Amanda entered the room where Francesca was sitting with a hospital social worker, who had given her a piece of paper and crayons. “Whatcha drawin’?” she asked after the kid had looked up, excited to see her. 

The child ushered the detective over to look, patting the hospital cot and pulling up her robe, which was so big, it was falling off of her shoulders. “It’s a picture. It’s me and Tony, and you and Ms. Olivia.”

“We’re holding hands,” the blonde pointed out, sitting down next to the little girl.

She nodded happily. “Uh huh. Cause you love me and you don’t hurt me.” She continued coloring for a moment, her expression turning pensive. “Daddy hurted me.”

Amanda gave her a sad smile, looking up at the social worker for permission to discuss the issue further. The friendly woman bobbed her head at her. “I know he did, baby. Francesca, do you want Daddy to go to jail?”

She nodded. “Forever and ever. Are you the police?”

“Yes, I am.”

Her eyes left the drawing and landed on her hands, her fingers fidgeting. “Are you gonna ‘rest him and put him in jail?”

“We’re gonna do everything we can.”

The little girl looked up at Amanda with big brown eyes, and she reached for her hand to hold it just like in her picture. “Can I help?”

A few minutes later, Olivia saw her wife walk out of Francesca’s room. They had split up in order for each of them to be with one of the twins. Amanda rubbed at her tired eyes, relieved to see the brunette in front of her. “Hey.”

“Hey. Just talked to one of the social workers. The twins are ours if we want them.”

The detective was too sad to celebrate this news. “Have they been able to find the parents?”

Liv nodded. She’d been able to communicate with the rest of the team and with social services more freely than the other woman had because Tony hadn’t been quite so nervous about the hospital trip. “Father’s in jail. Mother’s been in rehab for four months, which is when she lost custody of the twins. The goal is still reunification, but that could change. We did say we would adopt if we could.”

“We have to ask Josh first. He’s old enough to have a say.”

"Of course. I’ll call him.” She looked at her cellphone. “He should be home from school. What’s goin’ on in there?” She pointed towards the room Francesca was still in.

Amanda fought the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, and Olivia noticed, reaching to pull the now crying woman into her arms. They were technically not at the hospital in an official capacity, so the lieutenant didn’t think hugging her wife in the ER would be an issue. “She told me she wants Daddy to go to jail. I wasn’t tryin’ to make that harder, I just wanted to spare her—”

“I know,” Benson cooed into her ear. “We all know.”

“But I think”—she sniffed, pulling slightly away from the older woman—“I’m gonna let the SANE take a few swabs and a picture or two. She’s such a smart little girl, and I know I’ll regret it if I don’t do everything I can to put him away.”

Olivia nodded, proud of her for making this decision. “I’m going to go call Josh, and then I’ll hang out with Tony and sign some paperwork. You gonna be okay to be with Francesca?”

“Yeah. No, that’s what I want to do.” Amanda reached out to give her wife’s hand a squeeze, remembering the child’s drawing and smiling sadly. “I’m gonna hold her hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This got a lot longer and a lot darker than I initially intended it to be, so I don’t know if I should say sorry or you’re welcome. I hope you get something from it. It wasn’t an easy one to write, but it’s an important story to tell. I do plan on expanding on Josh as a character in other one-shots, but just for reference, he is a fourteen-year-old boy that currently lives with Amanda and Olivia. He goes back to his biological family before the adoption of the twins. Just a warning that the next one shot will feature explicit sexual content and I’ll be upping the rating to M, so make sure to widen your search parameters. Thanks guys! -Gabby


	4. "I need more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is @faceinbud. 
> 
> Explicit sexual content in this one. 
> 
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 4: Amanda and Olivia revisit their trigger plan

Amanda sighed in relief when her wife’s knowing fingers found her throbbing clit. It was the greatest gift to know that she would be cared for in all aspects as the woman who meant everything to her lovingly caressed her body, her mind, and her soul. It was the ultimate safety, really. To be able to let go so completely that she didn’t worry about what she looked like, what she sounded like. Olivia made it clear she loved it all, and the older of the two reveled in even the tiniest of the blonde’s reactions to her ministrations. It was as if she were playing an instrument, the most beautiful of melodies escaping as she stroked. 

“I love you,” Olivia whispered into the detective’s ear as a shiver shot down her spine, before pressing a series of kisses to the shell of her ear and then her pulse point, earning a momentary gap in the beats she felt there.

Amanda gasped out an “I love you” in return, gripping tightly onto her wife’s arm as it flexed. The younger woman was so thankful they had this part of their life together back, and she savored each moment, each touch, each breath. But as the months since they had first reclaimed sex went by, she felt herself longing for more. The trigger plan they’d created was more than helpful, and on the rare occasion she began to panic when they were together, Olivia was quick to use words to bring her back to the present moment. Still, Amanda was thinking it was high time they update their plan, namely the provision about not using penetration or having oral sex. The blonde enjoyed being with Olivia more than words could describe, but a part of her was growing bored with the one type of touch she had allowed herself. She knew it was her own doing, and it had been necessary at the time, but in this moment, as she bucked her hips into Liv’s skillful hand, she wished her fingers would move a few inches downward (and a few inches inward).

A sheen of sweat covering the top layer of her skin, Amanda was already slightly dazed by the heavenly sensations between her legs. But she was also becoming desperate in a way she hadn’t been since before her assault. Her body needed Olivia in a way it hadn’t before. It was spiritual in a sense, and for at least several minutes, it took away all the hurt, all the shame that Amanda still fought on a daily basis. “Please,” she choked out without warning.

Olivia was confused at first, immediately stopping the movement of her fingers, but leaving them in place to provide a grounding touch. Generally, this was the exact speed and pressure that in only a few minutes would send Amanda crashing into wave after wave of cataclysmic pleasure, so what was she begging for? She let her lips hover over her wife’s. “You okay, love?”

An involuntary whimper left her throat at the loss of friction, and Amanda wished she could take it back because instantly Liv shifted to the side, releasing all points of contact between them. A tear rolled down her right cheek. “No,” she breathed, realizing a moment too late that though she was actually trying to tell the other woman not to leave, she would take the “no” as “No, I’m not okay.”

“I’m fine, Liv,” she promised, trying to pull the brunette closer to her. “I was just tryin’ to ask…”

Every once in a while, there was a miscommunication between them, where Amanda would try to ask for more and Olivia would just assume she was asking to stop. They were getting better at navigating what sex would be like for them for the foreseeable future, but they were only people, and people make mistakes. Benson preferred to be safe rather than sorry. “What, sweetheart?” the soon-to-be sergeant asked her wife, wrapping an arm around her in comfort.

Asking for anything specific in the bedroom was hard for Amanda still, but she tried her best to do it anyway, and it had become easier over time. But she knew this particular ask would be one that Olivia might feel hard pressed to agree to. “I…um…”

“It’s okay,” Olivia reassured, nuzzling her nose into Amanda’s sweaty neck and pressing a kiss into her shoulder. “You can ask for anything.” Liv always felt like her role in this process was to facilitate communication between the two of them. And though the detective always reminded her to let go and enjoy herself—which she did—she couldn’t completely let go, not of the responsibility she felt for her wife’s safety. 

Amanda nodded, sighing deeply and lazily trailing her fingertips up and down the brunette’s arm. “I need more,” she murmured, a blush forming on her cheeks.

“Okay.” Liv’s head bobbed up and down. “You need more pressure or for me to move faster….?”

Rollins shook her head, covering her face with both of her hands. She whispered a word that her wife could tell had two syllables, but beyond that, it could have been anything. She gently pried the woman’s clammy hands off of her red face and affectionately bumped her nose against the blonde’s. “Can you try again?” she asked softly with a small smile, trying to keep the interaction light for the detective’s sake.

Amanda stammered. “I—inside. Please.”

Olivia understood. She couldn’t imagine how frustrating it must be for the younger woman to have these physical needs that didn’t quite feel safe emotionally. And determining when she was ready to address potential triggers was going to be almost impossible on her own. But having to add the older detective into the mix and request that she touch her in a way that could send her flying into a flashback—Liv was actually surprised that she’d managed to get the words out at all. Proud of course, but still surprised.

Though it had been a feat to ask for this, Olivia wasn’t sure she could do it. She’d never forgive herself if something went wrong. But, she reminded herself, this was why they had a trigger plan. So they could make incremental progress and still remain safe. Even so, she wasn’t confident. “I…”

“This is stupid. I’m sorry.” Amanda was incredibly wound up and her heart was still hammering in her chest. She shouldn’t have even asked for this. She would have had a perfectly good enough orgasm without Olivia’s fingers inside her, and now she was looking at not even getting that far. “Can we just—” 

“Hey, this deserves a conversation.” She waited for agreement in the form of a nod before continuing. “I don’t feel comfortable doing this without talking about it first,” she acknowledged, “but if you want to use your own fingers—”

This time Amanda interrupted her. “No, that’s—” Not what she wanted, not good enough, not the point, not worth it. “—too complicated. It’s fine. Let’s just—”

“Baby, look at me.” It was at Olivia’s words that the blonde registered that she was no longer looking into chocolate orbs. She obeyed the gentle command, and the sight of tender eyes looking back at her calmed her significantly. “First of all, breathe. You brought it up, so clearly it’s important to you, making it important to me too. To quote someone I love very much, ‘are you in a rush? You got plans later?’” The laughter between them provided the rest of the comfort she needed to continue this conversation. “You seem—antsy,” the older woman observed, adding fuel to the fire by whispering her fingernails over Amanda’s ribcage, earning a gasp. “We can finish what we were doing and then talk if you want.”

Amanda’s need for instant gratification pulled her towards agreeing to the proposition, but a greater need made her shake her head. “I’d rather talk first. I want—” She cut herself off. She’d said enough.

“Okay.” Once again, Benson found herself wishing she had experience with this type of conversation. But looking back at many talks she’d had with her wife, she knew that Amanda only wanted her to be honest and real, and it didn’t matter to her if she went about things in the “right” way. “First of all, how long have you been holding onto this desire?”

“Not that long really. I mean, a couple of weeks,” the blonde confessed. “I was waiting for the right time to tell you, but I just became overwhelmed with the need to feel you…everywhere. With this feeling of emptiness, of not enough. And I knew it would require a conversation, so I should have waited, but….” She ended with a shrug.

Olivia chuckled lightly, flipping them so that the younger woman was halfway lying on her chest. “I always want to know if these things come up for you, even if I can’t always immediately give you what you need.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable—”

“I’ll be fine once we discuss a few guidelines here. I’m not comfortable yet, but I will be.”

“Promise me,” Amanda said, “that if after we talk, you still don’t feel good about it—”

“I won’t do anything I don’t want to do.” She presented her pinky for a pinky promise.

“You can’t break your promise now,” Amanda pointed out, wrapping her smallest finger around her wife’s. “Honestly,” she started after a minute, “wanting to hold out on penetration was really so I could put some distance in between what happened and what we do together. I just needed more time, I think.”

“I think that’s very possible,” Olivia told her, interlacing their fingers and bringing Amanda’s knuckles to her lips, “but what if time wasn’t enough? I feel like if you get scared, me just quickly pulling out could make things worse.”

That was a fair point, the soon-to-be law student conceded. “Just like everything else, though, we won’t know until we try. You know, everyone else just has sex when they want to, because they want to. And I understand why we need to tread more carefully, but I haven’t had a bad freak out since before the wedding, and we’re not gonna make progress until we try. That’s my reasoning,” she disclaimed, “but if you’re not ready—”

“I trust you,” the brunette assured her wife. “Can I just make two rules—for my own sanity?”

“Of course.” Amanda danced her fingertips across Olivia’s earnest features.

Liv thought for a minute. “We use lube and no more than two fingers?”

The blonde laughed, straining to sit up and reach into her bedside cabinet. She passed the small bottle to Benson, who quickly popped the top open. Amanda laid her head back on the pillow. “Lead the way.”

“I think that’s your job, babe,” Olivia chuckled softly. “What do you want?” she asked, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows, before lying down next to her wife and letting her lips ghost across her collarbone.

“That, for one.” Amanda appreciated that though they were negotiating something serious, they could still be lighthearted about it. That they could acknowledge they were working hard for something they would enjoy, for something that would allow them to connect. They could have fun together. “Honestly, baby,” the blonde sighed as she felt two lubricated fingers nestle themselves against needing warmth, “just do what feels right. I’ll let you know if something specific comes to mind.” She wanted to be more helpful, but the featherlight movement of one fingertip against her clit instantaneously banished all rational thought. 

Liv let her fingers move languidly back and forth, up and down across the blonde’s glistening folds, affording herself some time to think. What had Amanda liked…before? It had been more than a year at this point since she had felt the tight ring of muscles grip her digits, pull her deeper, and to be totally frank, Olivia’s eyes were already dilating at the thought of being swallowed up by such exquisite warmth again. But where to start? 

She felt Rollins grab her wrist, effectively stilling it for enough time to make meaningful eye contact. “Please,” she repeated her earlier word, this time leaving no doubt about what she’d meant.

Olivia nodded quickly, offering her wife a comforting smile. “I’m going to start with one, okay?”

Amanda didn’t give a rat’s ass what she did at this point, as long as it was something. She knew when it came down to it, one finger wouldn’t be enough, but it was a sufficient start, so she gave her love an eager nod, releasing her wrist from her previous death grip. 

As the brunette moved one fingertip to rest against Amanda’s entrance, she saw the younger woman grip fiercely onto the sheets below her, and Liv chuckled lightly. “Hold on to me,” she suggested, waiting for the blonde to wrap both arms around her neck. As she kissed desperate lips, Olivia could hear the beat of her heart. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked one more time.

Amanda nodded against her forehead, feeling her wife circle her opening in attempt to gather as much wetness as possible. “Yeah, I…I’m a little nervous, but it’s okay. It’ll pass. It’s mostly anticipation.”

The older detective pressed a kiss to her wife’s nose. “I’m going to take care of you. But I need you to breathe and relax your body.” The blonde nodded, and Olivia could feel her limbs slacken in their grip on her. “There you go, sweetheart. I’m going to be so gentle and so careful.” She stilled her fingertip at Amanda’s entrance, smiling softly at the woman’s frantic attempt to pull her forward. Olivia knew Amanda didn’t need all these comforting reassurances all the time. Usually, Liv said these things for her own benefit, to remind herself that she was in Amanda’s corner and that she had her best interests at heart. Still, the younger woman reveled in the tender words, drank them up like a fine wine. How’d she get so lucky? “I love you.”

“I love you,” Amanda purred, pulling Olivia in for a kiss. That was most definitely her cue, so as she resumed her gentle circles around already clenching muscles, she used slightly more pressure, letting her pointer finger dip just barely inside her, stopping at the first knuckle. 

Amanda arched her back instantly, releasing her wife’s lips to exhale audibly. The last time she’d felt this exquisitely vulnerable with her wife was over a year ago, and it existed only as a vague memory in her mind. She decided to focus deeply on each moment, so that she’d never forget what this felt like. She gripped tightly onto the nape of Olivia’s neck, her entire body tensing as the brunette slowly pushed in until the next knuckle.

“Relax,” Benson cooed into her wife’s ear, knowing this wasn’t a negative reaction, just an instinctual one. “Relax, my love,” she whispered again, letting the fingernails of her free hand scratch against Amanda’s scalp. “Slow breaths for a minute,” she instructed, pressing a kiss to Amanda’s cheek.

“I’m good,” she said after a few more seconds, swallowing hard as her muscles relaxed somewhat.

Olivia hummed, burying the rest of her finger inside Amanda’s heat and letting the tip of the digit wander the blonde’s inner walls, eliciting a gasp from the back of her throat. “This okay?” Liv asked against her ear.

Amanda nodded vigorously. “More,” was her only verbal response.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” 

Olivia carefully pulled her pointer finger out until only her first knuckle remained concealed by Amanda’s warmth, the maneuver releasing a fresh gush of fluid. Liv bathed her middle finger in the wetness, positioning both fingers at her wife’s entrance. After a small but confident nod, the detective pushed into the other woman impossibly slowly, knowing this would be a bit of a stretch for the blonde, and she felt the confirmation of that as she moved.

Liv felt nails leave half-moons on her back as she slowly entered Amanda, keeping her eyes locked on cloudy blue pools. “This too much?” she asked quietly, almost in a whisper, as if any more volume would break the sanctuary they’d created.

Amanda shook her head, pulling her wife’s lips to hers as her back arched, beckoning Olivia’s digits forward. The brunette followed her lead, happily burying her fingers to the hilt. She recalled that the woman had never liked thrusting and had always preferred a pulsing movement or for Olivia to simply move the tips of her fingers, tapping them rapidly against her front wall. So, that’s what she began to do, and when she got her desired response, she knew she had remembered correctly.

“Liv,” the blonde breathed laboriously, her eyes watering in adoration for the woman whose fingers moved so tenderly inside her. The stretch had been uncomfortable for only a few moments, the fullness unfamiliar as it had been so long. But Olivia touched her with so much care that the brief discomfort had been a mere blip in the pleasure she was experiencing.

Slowly, as if to give her enough time to protest if it wasn’t what she wanted, Olivia brought her thumb to rest against Amanda’s now neglected clit, tapping in time with her movements inside of her, all three fingers moving with one common purpose—to make the younger woman feel as good as humanly possible, and then some. Eventually, she broke the kiss, needing the air only an unoccupied mouth could manage to inhale. “Liv,” she said again, this time more high-pitched than before.

Olivia knew what she was attempting to communicate. It was always the same.

Thank you. I love you. I trust you. 

With the breathier tone the chant carried with it this time, Olivia also interpreted “I’m close.” She shifted slightly on the bed to make sure she was comfortable enough to continue her current ministrations for the next few minutes. The last thing she wanted was to bring Amanda to the edge and then have to stop because of a cramp. She pressed her lips against the other detective’s temple, feeling her heart accelerating still, as well as the quintessential tightening of Amanda’s inner muscles. She knew flutters would quickly follow.

“I love you,” she whispered once more into her wife’s temple, letting her lips rest against the sweaty skin. “Let go for me.”

Amanda had always come more intensely with dual stimulation, but that first rhythmic grip against her two fingers bordered on uncomfortable. And then again, only slightly less forceful, as the younger of the two threw her head back in a silent scream, holding her breath. It was only after the fourth squeeze against Olivia’s now still fingers, resting firmly against the spongy flesh adorning her front wall, that Amanda actually exhaled, a deep “Oh” escaping through her parted lips. 

If the first time they’d had sex again sent Amanda into lower Earth orbit, this time she was feeling the flames of the sun lick her skin. It took over a minute for her to return back to her home planet, and she reveled in the remaining fluttering between her legs. 

Olivia felt her hand begin to cramp up, but she didn’t want to pull out too early. One, because she wanted the aftershocks of Amanda’s orgasm to last as long as possible, and two, because she didn’t want to cause her discomfort by pulling out too fast or without warning.

“I love you too,” Amanda eventually murmured, realizing she hadn’t had a chance to reply to Liv earlier. "So much." She gave her free hand a squeeze, taking a few more moments to cherish the sensation of being utterly surrounded by Olivia. “You’re good,” she whispered, exhaling to aid in the process of letting her wife have her fingers back. 

Olivia pulled out slowly, kissing her wife to distract from the unpleasant lack of fullness. “I guess we can cross that one off the list, at least tentatively,” she said softly, pulling a tired and sated Amanda into her arms.

The blonde’s eyes lit up as she hummed groggily, a wicked grin adorning her face. “Now, all we have to try is oral.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading. My favorite of all my one-shot ideas comes next. Hint: It involves Alex.


	5. "I want to disclose publicly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is @faceinbud.   
> This one’s been a long time coming, and I’m really, really proud of it!  
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 5: “I want to disclose publicly.”

“Hi Alex.”

Alex smiled at the young boy, who had just arrived home from school. "Hey, bud. How are you?

"I'm good,” he replied, grabbing an apple from a bowl on the kitchen table. “I'm gonna let you guys have some adult time." He chuckled for a second, and then he ran up the stairs and into his room.

"I really like that kid,” the Chief ADA commented. Josh had been with Amanda and Olivia for a few months, and he fit in well. Alex admired that he was observant and smart, and he was always happy to say hello. 

"Yeah, we do too,” Amanda agreed, standing up from the table and walking towards the stairs. “Josh,” she called, “make sure you do your homework please. Let us know if you need help."

"Okay! It’s just Algebra. I should be fine!"

Amanda reentered the kitchen, murmuring, “just Algebra,” sarcastically under her breath. Were they raising the next Einstein? She couldn’t recall ever referring to math as “just” anything.

Liv smiled at the interaction her wife had just had with their foster son, waiting for her to come sit down. Alex anxiously tapped her fingers against the wood of the table, so the Lieutenant cleared her throat, knowing the candidate for District Attorney would want to get on with it. “So, you said you needed to talk to us about something?”

Alex nodded, looking between both women, and she swallowed hard in preparation to speak. If she were going to accomplish what she wanted to accomplish, the first thing she had to do was share the news with her friends, and it shouldn’t have been this hard. But still, once she put her plan in motion, once she said the words, she couldn’t take it back. “I want to disclose...publicly.”

Amanda and Olivia shared a glance. Both of them knew that they were the only two people who knew about what Alex had gone through. She hadn’t even told anyone in her family. And now, she wanted to go public, to announce to the world that she, too, was a survivor. Rollins reveled in the knowledge that she had made progress in the past few years, but she wanted to make sure she’d thought out the decision, as well as the consequences. “Wow, Alex. That’s a big decision.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but I’ve thought long and hard about this. Had many sleepless nights over it. My campaign manager agrees it’s a good idea. I’m winning in the polls. My progressive ideas are popular, but I can’t lie to my potential constituency. How can I expect the people of New York to trust me if I don't trust them? I want voters to understand that this isn't just a power play for me. I have a personal stake in this.” 

“And if it turns some voters off from voting for you?” Liv asked carefully.

“Then they deserve the District Attorney they feel comfortable voting for. I’m already out. If gay isn’t a deal breaker, but survivor is—I’m not sure this is the job for me anyway.” She was entirely resolute. She’d rather lose honestly than win pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Watching Amanda live her life in such a genuine way, starting Living Light to help child survivors, being the first to publicly support women when they came forward, it was really the example Alex needed to realize she could do the same with the privilege she’d been given in her life. It wasn’t a partisan issue. It was a human issue. She took a sip of the water Amanda had given her when she arrived to talk that afternoon. “Here’s the thing, guys. Politicians are known for lying. We’ve seen it first-hand. But I don’t want to be just any politician. I want to work for the people of New York, and they deserve honesty. I can’t say my claim to fame was in prosecuting sex crimes and not add that I was a victim of a sex crime.”

“I think that it’s the right thing to do,” Amanda prefaced, “but this is big. I mean, I can still find articles saying I was a cheating slut who liked it rough and resented being caught.”

The brunette placed a steadying hand on her thigh, taking a moment to remind Amanda that she knew those atrocious allegations were the farthest thing from the truth. Amanda often spoke of the horrible treatment survivors received in the news, but it was still painful to discuss the lies Patton and Buchanan had tried to use against her on the stand, especially because lots of people believed them. After a firm squeeze to her wife’s jeans, Liv turned her attention to the other woman. “We’re not trying to dissuade you,” Olivia said, holding a hand out in front of her.

“No,” the younger blonde agreed, “we just want to make sure you’ve completely thought this through.”

“Thank you, guys. I appreciate you looking out for me. But I have to do this. It’s like—” She turned to Amanda. “Do you remember when you first told everyone you were going to go to law school, and you said it was like a pull you couldn’t ignore?”

“I do.” Amanda watched as her wife smiled at her and reached for her hand, squeezing it. “So, how are you doing this?”

“Press conference tomorrow morning.” Amanda assumed she’d made it such short notice so that she couldn’t back out. The prosecutor was sure she wanted to do this, and the other two women could tell, but Alex was famous for ruminating obsessively over her decisions, and it was always better if she didn’t give herself enough time to analyze the merits or weaknesses of her choices in advance. “I didn’t want it to come as a surprise to you both, and also, I want you there, if possible.”

“Yeah, of course,” Olivia said, “Friday morning, shouldn’t be a problem.”

The next morning, Olivia and Amanda found Alex outside of the courthouse speaking with a woman they didn’t recognize. The attorney’s eyes lit up the moment she saw her two friends approaching and she excitedly walked to them both, initiating hugs with each of them. Either Alex was manic or already genuinely relieved to have made this decision. “Hey! I want to introduce you to someone.” She waved the young woman forward. “This is my campaign manager, Alissa Cassily.”

“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She shook both of their hands. “I’m going to go make sure everything is set up with the press. Ten minutes, Alex.”

“Ten minutes,” she parroted. 

Olivia plastered on a goofy smile. “She's cute.”

Cabot’s eyes narrowed, though her cheeks reddened. “I can't date someone on my staff. I'm running for District Attorney.” 

Olivia shrugged, of course knowing that Alex was right. “You wouldn't be the first.”

“And they're on the Supreme Court,” Amanda pointed out, agreeing with both women’s points.

“Ooh, yes, another reason I'm running.” She covered her eyes with her hand. “But image. Stop.”

“Sorry, Al.” Benson laughed, placing her hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Didn't mean for it to go that far. You just seem on edge. Wanted to lighten the mood.” The need to break up a tense moment was an urge she had learned from Amanda.

“You're not wrong,” Alex conceded. “But let's please not discuss the very disturbing fact that one third of the male justices on SCOTUS and the president of the United States got that far even with credible assault allegations against them. I won’t be one of them. These are issues I do want to talk about on my campaign, but today, I want it to be personal. I'm just like the people I want to work to protect.”

“Hey, Alex?” The DA candidate waited for her to continue. “You know you already do that, right? Protect people? I have peace and a sense of safety because of your hard work. I don't take that for granted. I'm lucky enough to know you as a friend, but even if I didn't, I'd be proud to vote for you. You got this. Speak from the heart.” 

“Thanks. Amanda.”

When Alissa announced there were five minutes before she was scheduled to speak on live TV to all of New York County, she began to unravel, immediately requesting advice from Amanda. “You've done this before.”

“In a courtroom, not on television.”

“Right,” she said. “But how do I do it? Where do I start?”

“Al.” Amanda placed both hands on Alex’s shoulders, giving her a confident smile. “Breathe. One word at a time. Don't forget why you're doing this. And know that you'll feel a million times better afterward,   
even if it takes a few days.”

“Okay.” She inhaled deeply. “I can do this.”

The detective and law school graduate pulled her in for one last hug. “You were born to do this.”

A crowd of reporters greeted her on the courtroom steps, Amanda and Olivia standing hand-in-hand off to the side. “Good morning, everyone. I have a few words to share, and then I’ll be happy to take some questions.” The members of the press settled down, waiting for Alex to continue speaking. “As you all know, I am running for New York County District Attorney. It’s something I’ve worked for my entire adult life, and I feel honored to have made it this far. It’s incredible to me that our ideas are resonating with people, and I can hardly believe we’re polling as well as we are. I feel your love and support. Over the years, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting so many inspiring New Yorkers, those who’ve testified for me as witnesses and those I’ve gotten to know during my campaign. Many of you know that as ADA, I prosecuted sex crimes with the Special Victims Unit. Lieutenant Benson and Detective Rollins of SVU are here today. By far, my most powerful encounters have been with survivors, where I’ve gotten to hear your stories and pledge to fight for you. To end the rape kit backlog. To fight for the passing of long past due affirmative consent laws. To witness the extraordinary resiliency of the human spirit. I stand here today because of your bravery.” She took a deep breath, glancing at her two friends, both of whom nodded her forward. “And I stand here today announcing for the first time publicly—me too. I know what it’s like to be the victim of a violent crime, of a sex crime. To be in an abusive relationship and have no one believe me when I disclose. I know the shame and the hurt that sometimes seems to never end. But I also know that as a nation, as a community, we need to do better. I understand on the deepest level that if we are to say we’re committed to ending sexual violence, we need to put our money and our policies where our mouths are. We need to change the sexist, racist, corrupt criminal justice system from the inside out, so that guilty individuals are made to serve sentences and innocent people are not. I am running for New York County DA so that I can fight with you as one of you. I am running because we need an office that doesn’t condemn empathy, but instead welcomes it with open arms. I am running for all of us. Thank you. I’ll take a few questions now.”

“Ms. Cabot!”

“Ms. Cabot, are you saying you were raped?”

“Ms. Cabot, how do you expect this will impact your campaign?”

“Ms. Cabot!”

“Ms. Cabot!”

“Ms. Cabot!”

Alex put up her hand to stop the cacophony of inquiries. “Hold on, guys. I’m only one person.” She was serious, but she added a good-natured smile, reminding herself that it was okay to be human. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t explicit enough, but yes, I have survived multiple sexual assaults at the hands of an intimate partner. And I don’t know how this statement will impact my campaign. Time will tell, but I knew I had to be honest with New Yorkers. Yes,” she said, pointing to a young reporter up front. “Do you have a question?

“Ms. Cabot, did your assailant serve prison time for his crimes?”

“No.” Alex sighed. “I never reported, and truth be told, I don’t know what became of him. Any other questions?”

“Ms. Cabot!” A young woman without a camera or microphone called out. Alex pointed to her anyway. “I’m not with the press,” she admitted. “You tried my case fifteen years ago, and I just wanted to say thank you. Your dedication saved my life.”

“Wow, thank you. Thank you for sharing that.” Alex knew this was only the beginning of a deluge of disclosures coming at her and around her. She knew how this worked. The floodgates were opening, and she hoped they would never again close.

After taking a few more questions, she stepped away from the microphone, getting hugs from Amanda and Olivia. 

“How do you feel?” Amanda asked.

“Like I can breathe for the first time in more than twenty years, and also a little dizzy.”

And then in November, when the local news anchor projected that the new Manhattan District Attorney would be Alexandra Cabot, she knew she had won much more than just an election.

She’d won her freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Remember, I’m still taking requests.


	6. "I think it's time for therapy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is faceinbud.
> 
> Hey guys! I had this one planned for a little later down the line, but I decided to move it up because I need some hurt/comfort in my life. If you read Stay, you know there's been angst building for several chapters, and Chapter 10 didn't leave Alex and Olivia in a really good place. All that will be addressed in the coming 5ish chapters, so there will be resolution, but I needed a bit of catharsis to break up the intensity. Maybe you do too. Now, this chapter is still angsty, so trigger warnings apply, but hopefully it's not as intense as Stay has been. This takes place between Sentencing Part 2 and Time Part 1. Thanks for reading!
> 
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 6: "I think it's time for therapy."

"Amanda."

Olivia's gentle voice pulled her from a fitful sleep. Even half conscious, she was semi-aware of two worlds. One where a tender hand rested lightly on her back and a loving fiancée coaxed her to wake up. And another quite entirely the opposite—one where violating hands wandered her body mercilessly and vicious laughs echoed through the air. Yes, Amanda knew she was dreaming. But which of the two words was fake?

"Amanda."

Patton had said her name. More than once. A rhythmic whisper that chanted her name in time with brutal movements. How could she trust it wasn't happening again?

"'Manda. Baby."

She knew for sure that Patton had called her "darlin'", something that Olivia never dared try. This voice was careful, patient. The hand moved in comforting lines. If she really focused on what she was experiencing, she might say there was no pain at all. Only the vague memory of it. Flashes of terror, of hopelessness.

"You're okay, sweetheart. It's just me. It's Olivia." As her eyes hesitantly fluttered open, the brunette took a breath. "I love you so much, and I'm not going to hurt you." An addition she'd decided to include ever since the night before Patton's indictment hearing, something both women had taken to calling "the nightmare."

Sleep still in her eyes, the younger detective could comprehend two ultimate truths: she was with Olivia, and Olivia wasn't going to hurt her.

She knew that was all that really mattered, so why was she still straining to suck in adequate oxygen? Why was her heart still hammering relentlessly against a battered ribcage? "What happened?" Amanda heaved, instinctively reaching out for her fiancée's spare hand.

An anchor. A connection to the real world. The one where Patton was doing twenty-five in maximum security and Amanda was safe. The one where the pain existed only in the recesses of her mind.

Until she fell asleep.

The blonde had been doing fairly well since the trial ended. She and Olivia had been having sex regularly since shortly after the New Year. Now, as it approached Valentine's Day, wedding plans were in full swing, and she was having more good days than bad days. Her nights were entirely different though. As the trial got further away, it felt as if he were getting closer to her in her dreams. During the day, he was securely in gen pop at Sing Sing, but at night he haunted her relentlessly, reminding her that she was broken, dirty, damaged goods. That she didn't serve the compassionate eyes staring down at her.

"It looked like you were having a nightmare, love," Liv murmured softly, her hand moving up her back and then tangling in her hair as she noticed the woman's body calm. "Do you remember?"

"Bits and pieces. I'm sorry." She blinked sleep from her eyes. "Did I wake you?"

The older woman shook her head. "I got up to pee and when I came back, you were crying. You were frozen, but still really tense. I took an educated guess." Amanda hummed as the brunette brought her cold knuckles to her lips, brushing them against softness and blowing warmth into clammy skin. "How do you feel now?"

"Some residual anxiety," she admitted, clearing her throat as her breathlessness was evident in the weakness of her voice. "But I'm okay. I think you getting up out of the bed triggered it. The movement."

Liv's expression grew pained. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. You're allowed to pee." She smiled sadly, reaching out to squeeze the shoulder of the woman who hovered protectively above her. "Go back to sleep, Liv. I'm fine."

She chuckled mirthlessly. "You know both of us are wide awake, sweetheart."

"There's nothing you can do, hon," Amanda whispered, shifting to her side so Olivia was no longer the only thing she saw when she looked up. "You might as well get some sleep."

The older cop's fingers migrated over her fiancée's hair and onto her face, cradling her cheek and then the nape of her neck. "If you're not sleeping, I'm not sleeping. Do want some tea?"

Amanda shook her head. "I'd like to talk, if you're up to it?"

Waves of relief crashed over Olivia. Sometimes she clammed up after nightmares. Others, she decided to completely pretend she was okay. Seeking support explicitly was the rarest occurrence of them all. "Of course." She nodded vigorously.

"I think it's time for therapy," she rushed. "I know I've been avoiding it, but I think I've done all the healin' I can without professional help. And I hate the way that makes me feel, but I'm tryin' to remind myself that this is what I'd tell anyone else to do, that my body doesn't know how to live without fear. I need copin' mechanisms. Strategies. I need help, Liv, I…"

"I know that makes you feel weak," Olivia said, practically reading her mind, "but saying—out loud—that you need help is one of the strongest things you can do, and baby, I want you to know how proud I am of you." Amanda bobbed her head, pressing her lips into a thin line. She knew her fiancée's words were true. She just wished they felt true. "Can I ask—why now?"

"Lately, I've been noticing…" She trailed off as Liv nodded expectantly, encouraging her to continue and squeezing the nape of her neck. "My nightmares have been getting worse."

The other woman, who was holding herself up by her elbow, tipped her head to the side inquisitively. "How so?"

"More frequent," she explained. "More vivid. Harder to wake up from. And when I do wake up," she continued, tired eyes meeting caring chocolate orbs, "the physical symptoms linger. Chest tightness. Shortness of breath. Dizziness. I still feel like my heart is gonna beat of out my chest."

"I can hear the shortness of breath," Liv acknowledged, rubbing Amanda's back to coax the muscles to relax, "and," she said, using the hand that rested against the bed to feel for the blonde's radial pulse, "your heart's still racing. What can I do?"

The younger detective managed to shrug. "I felt a little better when you first woke me up. Relieved, you know. But now, I'm remembering more about what the dream was about, and—"

"Okay, okay." Olivia gently cut her off and squeezed her hand. "Let's get you out of fight or flight, okay? Keep your eyes on me," she instructed, moving their intertwined hands to rest against her own chest. "And just copy my breathing. In nice and slow," she cooed, her voice soothing, "hold, and now exhale through your mouth slowly. There you go, sweetheart. I love you. You're safe. Let's do it again. We need to ground you, alright?" Amanda nodded. Her fiancée had led her through this exercise before, and she'd led survivors through it countless times herself.

The weight against her sternum was already abating, but she could feel her eyes dancing defensively around the room, and Amanda knew she was still being pulled into the dream world she'd just escaped. Focusing on Olivia, on her eyes, her words, her touch—second by second—was going to be her solace. "Breathe in again slowly, hold, breathe out. Okay, love. You know the deal. Find me five things you can see."

"Um…" She felt fingertips caress the back of her hand.

"Take your time, and remember to keep breathing."

"I see you." Amanda exhaled heavily. "Your eyes. Your lips. Your nose. I see the beginning of sunrise out the window. I see the time on the alarm clock."

"Good," the brunette praised, watching Amanda casually pull her hand away from her chest and shift on the bed once again to find a more comfortable position. "Do you want to sit up? Feel less restrained than under the covers?"

Jesus, Olivia thought of everything. Wordlessly, she indicated she liked the suggestion, pulling the comforter off of herself, and crisscrossing her legs as she rested her back against the headboard. The older woman turned slightly to face her, offering her hand in case her fiancée still wanted the contact. "Okay. Again, love. In, hold, out. Four things you can touch."

This was usually the easiest for Amanda, and she found it best to focus outwardly. Once, her hand had travelled instinctively to the scar on her temple, and she'd had to start the grounding process all over again. So, without thinking, she reached for the woman she loved, one hand gripping the fingers outstretched next to her and the other landing on her thigh. That was two. She preferred to remain quiet during this step, continuing her intentional breathing as the hand on her thigh moved up to cradle Liv's cheek. Three. Her palm brushed across soft lips, and she closed her eyes as she felt the light pressure against her skin. The kiss was number four.

Amanda almost forgot what they were doing until Olivia spoke again, her eyes boring into the other woman's, mesmerized by the love she saw in them. "You ready for what you can hear?"

The blonde inhaled again, noting that breathing was becoming easier and her limbs were feeling less like dead weight. "The birds chirping. Cars on the road." She sighed. "My own voice."

A genuine smile broke on Olivia's face. The color had returned to the woman's skin, and the hand that still rested on her cheek was no longer cold to the touch. "Great. Okay. Almost done. Two things you can smell."

Almost instinctively, Amanda buried her face into Liv's shoulder, dropping her hand and inhaling deeply, slowly, holding it, and then she released the air, each second controlled. "Your shampoo and laundry detergent," she sighed.

Usually, the younger detective was nearly one hundred percent better by the time they got to the last two senses, but they always completed the exercise to ensure it had the intended effect. The brunette hummed, not resisting the urge to press her lips into yellow hair. "One more slow breath," she whispered into the other woman's scalp. She waited for the feel of her shoulders slowly dropping. "One thing you can taste," she indicated.

For the first time since she'd been woken up, the corners of her lips quirked upwards. She lifted her head from her fiancée's shoulder and shifted her weight away from the headboard. Olivia looked at her quizzically as their noses bumped against each other and their foreheads met, and she waited for what Amanda was going to do next. Checking the look in her eyes once to ensure she'd be on board and finding nothing but warmth and adoration, the blonde tenderly wrapped her lips around Liv's, humming softly and feeling the last of the tension leave her body.

This was the real world. The real world was safety. "You."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Do you guys want to see the actual therapy session? (I'm currently going to school for Social Work, but I do feel a little self-conscious about writing something like this out. That being said, I feel self-conscious about most things I write.) I have some Amanda/Alex bonding coming up next. Reminder—still taking requests!


	7. "Is it worth it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is faceinbud.   
> A less heavy one than usual. Needed a bit of reprieve. I took a Criminal Law practice test for this. (Got 13 out of 15 questions correct). So now I know more than I'll ever need to, but that's okay because I did it for the story.  
> If you read Stay, you'll see that I posted a statement about the cold-blooded murder of George Floyd. If you don't, I'll repeat here that I'm aware SVU is fictional and is unrealistic by nature. Olivia and Amanda don't represent the majority of police officers in this country. (More in Chapter 12 of Stay--the chapter I posted about 24 hours ago-- if you're interested.)  
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 7: "Is it worth it?"

Alex strode into the precinct to find the blonde detective staring intently at her computer. "Amanda, are you ready for lunch?"

Without acknowledging the other woman's presence, Amanda banged her hands against the desk, showing some restraint so as to not garner the attention of the rest of the squad, including the uniformed officers that worked in their unit. "Shit!"

A smirk appeared on the attorney's face as she continued to approach the younger of the two. "What?"

Amanda sighed heavily. "I just failed this practice bar. I don't know what I did wrong."

"Here, let me take a look." Alex pulled up a chair and began to scan the screen in front of her. She'd taken the bar with paper and pencil before the dawn of the twenty-first century, and technology for things like this were minimal. Her study tools were limited to textbooks and caselaw. "You didn't do so bad," she placated. Amanda had only been two questions away from passing.

The detective pinched the bridge of her nose, resting her elbow on the desk. "If I can't get these Criminal Law questions right, then what's the point, Alex? I didn't decide to go back to school to become a Maritime Lawyer."

"Show me something you missed." Alex had been Amanda's study buddy for the last few years, and she'd been an indescribable help to the younger woman, but now that she'd graduated and July was approaching, it was becoming real, and the ADA-hopeful was beginning to freak out.

Amanda started to scroll down on the screen, selecting a question she was confused about. "Here. A state statute made it a crime to be addicted to the use of narcotic drugs. A man was arrested and charged with the crime of drug addiction. Two officers testified that they examined 'track' marks on the defendant's arms and wrists, and that he admitted to past drug usage. The accused testified that he was not an addict and the marks were from an allergic reaction. The trial court instructed the jury that it could find him guilty on proof that he was an addict, without proof of drug usage. The jury did not believe the defendant's denials, and found him guilty based on the observed track marks. The court sentenced him to six months imprisonment. He appealed, claiming cruel and unusual punishment prohibited by the Eighth and Fourteenth Amendments of the United States Constitution. Will the conviction likely be reversed on appeal?"

Alex read through the answer choices. "And why did you put no?"

"Because the state has the right to criminalize the use of narcotics within its borders."

Cabot nodded, looking up from the screen. "But that's not what the statute does. The statute criminalizes addiction." Without locating the correct answer on the screen, she continued. "The conviction would likely be reversed."

"Okay," she agreed, her head bobbing up and down. "I can see how you got there, but he's citing cruel and unusual punishment."

"Mhm." This was a case the Chief ADA happened to remember well. "Robinson v. California. Though drug use can be criminalized, the illness of drug addiction itself cannot be criminalized because that would be akin to punishing someone for having a cold."

Amanda quickly scribbled down the name of the case onto the piece of paper that rested beside her and made a note to go back to it. "And that's cruel and unusual," she explained out loud to herself. "So the conviction would be reversed based on the Eighth and Fourteenth Amendments."

"Yeah." Alex stretched her muscles for a moment. The chairs in the precinct were not comfortable. "Supreme Court precedent overrides a state statute. You know that." Her tone wasn't disappointed, but it was certain. Amanda had graduated with honors from law school, and the older woman figured that even a high school graduate would—hopefully—know that.

"Right. Guess I was nervous." She gave an anxious chuckle. "But I don't usually have test takin' anxiety."

"Hey." Amanda looked up from her frenzied writing to find Cabot's eyes staring resolutely at her. She reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "You're fine. You still have a few more months, and you almost passed this one."

Rollins appreciated her friend's comfort, but to her, they were empty promises. The responsibility to prepare herself for the most important test of her life fell to her alone. Alex was a great help, but if she didn't know the caselaw, then she didn't know the caselaw, and no amount of cheering and well wishes would fix that. "I've just put so much work into this, and I don't wanna fail."

"I get it. But," she stressed, "worst case scenario, you can take it again."

"Did you pass your first time takin' it?"

"I did," Alex admitted with a sigh. "But just barely, and I've forgotten so much of what I don't use day to day." She scooted in once more to take a more detailed look of the breakdown of the questions Amanda had missed. "Look," she told her gently. "It seems like you're struggling most with Criminal Law, and I think that's because your overthinking it." The detective couldn't deny that. Why had she been so sure that imprisonment for addiction wasn't cruel and unusual that she was comfortable selecting a response that was clearly unconstitutional? She was an addict. Maybe she didn't do drugs and she hadn't gambled since her assault, but it could have just as easily been her described in the practice question. Was she cut out for this? "If you can take a deep breath and focus on what you already know, you should be fine. These are application questions. So much of it is common sense." Alex kept scrolling, pointing at the computer as she went, realizing that the majority of her wrong answers were concentrated in one area. "Your Constitutional Law looks great, Contract looks good, your Torts is fine. Civil Procedure—Amanda, you failed because of Criminal Law. You told me you didn't have test taking anxiety."

She deadpanned. "But I do have anxiety anxiety."

Alex threw her head back in laugher for a moment. That, she could relate to. "How can I help?"

"Can we look at one more question? Make me feel less dumb."

"Of course we can. And you're not dumb."

"Okay. Here, this is relevant." She began reading. "The police were called to a domestic dispute. The wife told police that her husband was abusive and that he was a heavy cocaine user. The husband was present and denied the allegation. Police asked for permission to search the premises for drugs, which was consented to by the wife. The husband, however, refused to consent to the search. The police went ahead anyway and found drugs in the husband's belongings. After being arrested on drug charges, the husband filed a motion for suppression of the evidence based on lack of consent. What should be the likely decision of the trial court?"

Alex didn't understand why Amanda had chosen this question to work on. "You said that the evidence must be suppressed because the co-owner of the home explicitly did not consent. You got this one right, sister."

She shrugged. "I guessed though."

Cabot narrowed her eyes at the other woman. She'd studied with her many times before, and it was unlike her to be so unsure about Fourth Amendment violations. "No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"I refuse to believe that. Would you search a home without the consent—"

"—of a perp? Don't make me answer that, counselor."

"You liar!" Alex shot back, though she was smiling, an incredulous smile quirking the corners of her lips upwards. "You would never, Rollins. Not because you wouldn't want to. But because you'd know the drugs would be suppressed."

Amanda opened her mouth to make a retort, being cut off by the opening of Olivia's office door. Apparently, their passionate bar battle had been growing in volume. "Hey, what's going on out here? Are you two arguing?"

"Hey," Alex laughed. "Just some lively law banter. Care to join us?"

"No, I'm good, thanks," the brunette replied with a smile. Benson rested her hands on her wife's tense shoulders, squeezing lightly for a moment before moving to stand next to her. They tried to keep it professional at work, even though everyone in the precinct knew they were married. Liv hadn't been Amanda's supervisor when they began dating, so there was no ethical dilemma there. It just made more sense, and it saved them from potential conflicts of interest if—especially the physical affection—was kept to a minimum.

"I failed this practice bar," Amanda confessed sadly, "and Alex is tryin' to help me."

"Well, thanks for helping, Al."

"Of course. Operation ADA Rollins is my favorite project."

Amanda gave a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Liv was the second person in five minutes to reach out and squeeze her shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. Looks like you're getting closer though."

"Yeah. I really just need to get my nerves under control. This is not the be all, end all of my life," she attempted to convince herself. "I'll have another chance."

"I don't think you'll need one, honestly, Amanda." The prosecutor stood up. "Liv, we were going to go grab lunch. Do you want to come with us?"

"I have a pile of paperwork to get through," she said. "But you two go. Get my wife away from her computer. She deserves a break."

"I agree," the older blonde declared. "C'mon, 'Manda. My treat."

As they entered the hallway that held the elevators they would take to enter the parking lot, Alex stopped her friend for a moment. "Can I give you a hug? You seem really stressed."

"I don't seem stressed. I am stressed," she chuckled. "But sure, why not?"

Alex Cabot was not a hugger, and for the most part, she had only three exceptions. Kids, witnesses if they initiated the contact, and her two best friends. She wrapped her arms around the detective for a few moments and then pulled back. "It's okay, Amanda. You're more than prepared." She pressed the down button by an elevator. "When you're in your element, it's like you enter a different space, and you can so eloquently apply precedents to the cases you're investigating in SVU." After they'd entered the small box, Alex continued speaking. "I feel like you've made my job easier, like I've had a liaison in the squad room. I have full faith and confidence in you. You deserve to feel it for yourself. And I'd be willing to bet it's the only thing between you and a license."

Amanda knew she was probably right, so she just nodded gratefully. Studying would be important in preparation, but more necessary would be her ability to trust in her own expertise. She knew this stuff like the back of her hand. She'd eaten, drunk, and breathed law for the past almost four years, and before that, she'd been involved as a cop and then as a star witness. She knew the system inside and out, and she even carried with her a pocket Constitution so that she'd always be prepared to argue a point.

When they arrived at the restaurant, a small café around the corner, she returned to her earlier thoughts about not only her ability to pass the bar, but her ability to become a competent attorney. Alex was so much stronger than her in many ways. Had she bitten off more than she could chew?

After they'd ordered their food, Amanda cleared her throat. "Is it worse prosecuting these crimes than it is investigating?"

"I wouldn't say that." Alex shook her head. She'd been predicting something like this. Whenever Amanda went silent for an extended period of time, she was most definitely stewing in her thoughts, and usually she summarized those thoughts with a question at the end. "You spend way more time with the victims than I do," she pointed out.

"But you spend more time with the evidence," the detective countered. "Photos. Rape kits. Disclosure statements. That's gotta take a toll."

"It does," she conceded. "But I don't think it's of any use comparing war stories. We're survivors of sex crimes and this stuff surrounds us daily. But we do it for a reason."

"But it's worth it, you think?"

"Amanda, when you win your first case, you'll have your answer." She sighed. "But I can't say that for you."

"But for you, is it worth it?"

Cabot nodded. "Honestly?" There was no hesitation preceding her response. "It's the most worth it thing I've ever done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! I feel like there isn't enough Alex/Amanda friendship in the world, so if you feel similarly, here it is!


	8. "It couldn't have been my fault."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is faceinbud.
> 
> This one is Amanda's first therapy session. Trigger warnings apply to discussion of sexual assault.
> 
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets

One-Shot 8: "It couldn't have been my fault."

"Are you nervous?" Olivia asked gently as she put the car in park.

"You know all my tells, baby," she said, shaking her head in the negative as she white knuckled different areas of the car with both hands. Amanda nodded, sighing shakily. "A little."

The brunette reached for her fiancée's hand, which rested firmly on the center console between them, and brought their interlaced fingers up to her lips. "Can you tell me more, sweetheart?"

"Oh, that's exactly what she's gonna say, Liv."

Benson gave the younger woman a soft smile, squeezing her hand. "You know how therapy works. I know the vulnerability of having to talk about what happened to you is scary. But you are the bravest person I know, Amanda Rollins, and you deserve to thrive. It won't be easy in the moment, but you can do it. I'll be sitting in the lobby waiting for you, and we don't have to talk about it after if you don't want to."

The blonde nodded. "Okay," she whispered weakly, trying to hype herself up. One session. She was committing to one session. But it didn't help that the first session would be the worst one. This is where she'd have to spill; she'd have to establish her reason for seeking trauma therapy.

"Are you ready to go inside?" Liv asked her softly, earning a hesitant nod. "We're going to go in together. I'm with you. Not only physically, okay? I'm with you. Today and always," she promised. "Come on."

The older woman guided Amanda into the building, and they checked in, being told the provider would be with them in a few minutes. Soon a young woman turned the corner into the waiting area and smiled, reaching out her hand. "Are you Detective Rollins?"

"Amanda." She nodded.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Amanda. I'm Priya Anand, one of the Licensed Clinical Social Workers here.

The blonde gestured to Benson. "This is my fiancée, Olivia. She works with me in SVU. She's here for moral support."

Amanda laughed anxiously as the older detective extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well, Olivia, and there's nothing wrong with moral support." The social worker smiled again. "Are you ready to come back with me, Amanda?"

"I think so," she said breathlessly.

"It's totally normal to be nervous, Amanda," Priya assured, "but I promise I'll do everything I can to put you at ease. We'll take today at your pace and only talk about what you're comfortable with. It's your session. You have total control."

The younger woman bobbed her head up and down, turning to hug Olivia. It wasn't like her to explicitly seek comfort in a public area, but she needed the last little boost, like she was charging her emotional battery with her fiancée's embrace. "I love you," the brunette murmured into her ear, pulling away slightly. "I'll be right here when you're finished."

After making two turns, they arrived at a moderately sized room with dim lighting. Priya gestured for the other woman to walk through the door with a soft smile. "Amanda, would you prefer I close the door or leave it open?"

She hesitated to respond. Her heart battered her ribcage, and she struggled to keep her voice calm. She was with a therapist. She was there to help. Amanda was safe. Did Priya have a preference? "Um."

"Up to you," she said casually, hovering in the doorway.

"Can you close it—but just a little?" Amanda wanted some privacy, but she also wanted to know that Liv would be able to hear her from the lobby if she called, not that the blonde would need to.

Priya pulled the doorknob towards herself about a foot. "Like this?"

"Yeah, that's good."

"Great." She outstretched her hand vaguely towards the room. "Go ahead and sit wherever is most comfortable."

After they both sat, Priya explained that what they talked about together would remain confidential—unless Amanda confessed that she planned on hurting herself or someone else. The blonde was familiar with the duty to report. She also went over the informed consent process, another thing the detective had experience with. Being present for over a hundred rape kits and going through one herself made her well versed in the documents and conversation that went along with it.

"Amanda, it's important to me that you guide our sessions together, so my first question is going to be the stereotypical one—what brings you here today?"

The blonde looked down at her hands, wringing them together anxiously. Was the woman already judging her? Should she be embarrassed that the rape police was incapable of talking about rape? Had this been a huge mistake? Amanda swallowed hard. "What do you already know?"

"Well," the therapist began, "I know that you and your fiancée work for the Special Victims Unit. Your captain has referred some of your survivors to me in the past. And I am a trauma specialist, so I would say that I know you've survived a trauma of some sort."

"Great," she muttered sarcastically under her breath. "So, I do have to tell you everything."

"Amanda, you don't have to tell me anything but what you want to tell me," she said, calmly thrusting out a palm to slow her down. "Though I will say something that is true is that this process will be more productive for you if you're open. But we'll take it at your pace. If you're not ready to talk about the specifics of your trauma, that's more than okay. But you're here for a reason. So how about you start by telling me what made you decide to meet with me today?"

Rollins thought for a few seconds, coming to the conclusion that she had made the decision to get help, and she had power over that choice. She also knew that Priya's words were right. Amanda wasn't going to benefit from therapy just by sitting in a chair across from a woman with a degree hanging on her wall. She needed to talk. "Well, the trauma was a sexual assault. That's relevant, and it's kind of the bare minimum you need to know."

Priya nodded. She didn't expect her new client to be so forthcoming. This was a promising start. "Thank you for sharing that with me. Can I ask when that happened?"

"Well, there were kinda two times." The detective worried her lower lip, raking her fingers through yellow hair. "I mean, the first one was more of an attempt. Same guy. That was a couple years ago. And the rape was—" she did some mental math. "—nine months ago."

Priya wrote down a quick note and then placed her paperwork aside, wanting to focus on Amanda. "And how have you been coping since then?"

"At first, sort of okay."

"What does 'sort of okay' look like for you, Amanda?"

"Mostly denial, if I'm bein' honest," she sighed. "I've been jumpy since it happened. Irritable. But it wasn't until after the trial that things got real bad."

Priya tipped her head to the side. "Was your rapist convicted?"

"Yes, he got twenty-five years."

The younger of the two women nodded. "And how long ago was that?"

"He was sentenced in January, so…three months."

"Okay," Priya said, "so let's make sure we're on the same page so far. You said that for the first six months after your assault, you felt like you were jumpy and irritable, but otherwise, doing okay, and now—within the past three months or so—you've been feeling worse?"

"Yes. I know that sounds weird," Amanda acknowledged, shaking her head in shame. "That I was fine at first and now I'm fallin' apart." She felt like she was healing backwards, getting worse over time, and it was like a runaway train she couldn't get off of.

"It's not weird, Amanda," Priya reassured the other woman, "it's actually fairly common. I would like to know, though, what your definition of 'falling apart' is if you're open to sharing."

Rollins knew there would be questions. She'd been ready for questions. But she was used to answering questions with facts: "We apprehended the suspect at 12:48 p.m." "The results of the rape kit showed semen from three different donors." Even "Yes, I was raped." But to speculate and to analyze her own thought process? That was new. And it was uncomfortable. Even so, Amanda could see the usefulness in it. What did "falling apart" mean to her and why did she think she was doing it? "I've been even jumpier. My fiancée and I, we've been havin' sex again for a few months, and it's been goin' okay, but when I do freak out, it's bad. It takes forever to calm me down, even when I know I'm safe. The nightmares have been horrible, and I wake up in a panic that can last for almost an hour. I'm anxious all the time. It hasn't been like this before. It's like I'm looking through a translucent sheet, but on it is his face—all the time. It's always there. But sometimes the image gets so clear, it's like he's actually with me, and I can't convince myself he's not."

"All of that sounds incredibly overwhelming, Amanda," the therapist empathized. "And this has been going on with the same severity since January?"

The blonde nodded her head, reaching to wipe away a few errant tears. "And it's not like it hadn't happened before, but it's pretty consistent now." Priya handed her a tissue, nodding in response.

After a few more minutes of back-and-forth that was easier than Amanda had expected, Priya took a few more notes about their conversation, wanting to have something to look back on when she documented the visit. "We have a little while left in our session, and I'd like to spend some time discussing possibilities regarding what we might do to alleviate some of what you're experiencing. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah. Um." She paused. "Would it be okay if we brought Olivia in here for this? I just think it would be helpful to have her here."

"Absolutely, Amanda. Do you want to wait here while I go get her?"

"Sure."

"Door open or closed?"

"Closed is fine." She was safe alone, in her own mind. Sometimes her thoughts felt dangerous, but she knew they weren't actually. She wasn't quite sure what was coming next, but she was sure that she was done exhibiting this level of vulnerability without her fiancée by her side. Still, she felt proud. Or at least she knew Olivia would be proud of her, and that was good enough.

"Hi, baby," Benson greeted when she and the social worker re-entered the room, reaching out for the blonde's hand when she noticed she'd been crying. "You doing okay, love?"

"Yeah, honey, just emotional," she explained, eagerly surrendering her fingers into her fiancée's grasp.

Once the three women were seated and the two police officers were joined at the hip, Priya spoke. "Amanda, I told Olivia that you asked for her to be here while we talk about action steps, and she told me that she's happy to do that for you. In the future, if you would want to do some—not all—but some sessions together, I think that could be helpful. The three of us are a team, and we're working together towards a common goal—to assist you in your healing journey, Amanda."

Amanda exhaled for an extended period of time, trying to prevent herself from becoming totally overwhelmed. She felt as if she were drifting away from her body, and she registered her senses becoming muted. Olivia saw the shift in her eyes as they began to become unfocused, so she squeezed her left hand firmly but carefully. "'Manda? Did you hear what Priya said? You're not alone. We're here to support you."

Finally, she nodded. "Yeah," she croaked. She wanted to know what was going to happen. The unknown was inducing fear in her body. "So, what's next?" Amanda leaned into her fiancée, and Benson switched her positioning so that she was holding the blonde's left hand with her own left, and she rested her right hand on the younger woman's upper back, rubbing wide comforting circles into her shirt.

Amanda knew she had been safe alone with Priya. But being with Olivia offered her a new kind of security, it was capital S Safety, a supreme form of the word. The tension in her body visibly decreased some as she waited for the woman across from them to speak.

"So," she said gently, picking up her notes and examining one of the checklists on her paperwork, "I do think you have PTSD."

Amanda nodded, a small whimper escaping her throat that only Olivia could hear. "I figured."

"I know that there's a stigma attached to that label, but Amanda, I want you to know that I would only use it as a roadmap for the types of treatments that may help you. Would you like to hear a little more about what I have in mind?"

Rollins cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the lump in the back of it. "Yeah, okay."

The brunette wrapped her arm fully around Amanda's body, squeezing her upper arm, reminding her that she was okay as Priya continued to softly explain what she thought the best course of action was. "So, I think you would be a great candidate for Cognitive Processing Therapy."

Liv spoke up. "I thought it was Cognitive Behavioral Therapy."

"Yes," she nodded. People often got the two approaches mixed up. "They are similar in practice, but they do differ slightly. CBT focuses on dysfunctional thoughts and behaviors, while CPT seeks specifically to shift unhealthy cognitions, and there is tons of research that indicates it's often successful with PTSD patients. Have either of you ever heard the phrase 'when you hear something enough, you start to believe it'?" Both women nodded. "Great. So, it sounds simple, but that's the basic premise. That we can take dysfunctional thought processes and change them to healthy ones over time. Can I help you work through an example? And if it doesn't feel okay to you, we can explore different treatment plans."

Amanda nodded, squeezing Olivia's hand. She didn't have to do this. She could say no. But she wanted to. Because even though she felt like she was paying someone to listen to her problems, she knew on some level that she deserved that, and she deserved to have a healthy life. "Yeah, okay. How does it work?"

"So, what I need you to do Amanda, is think of a belief you have or at least sometimes have about the trauma you faced—so your assault—that you feel is harmful or unproductive."

She sorted through a few options until she settled on something she knew was particularly problematic. "Okay. Got it."

"Do you mind sharing?"

"Um, it's that—" She turned to Olivia, predicting that she wasn't going to be happy with the words that came out of her mouth. "—it's that I'm somehow to blame. That I walked into it." The brunette squeezed her fiancée's hand, but she didn't change her facial expression, keeping her eyes light but attentive.

"That's a very common thought for survivors, Amanda," she replied, seeking to validate a normal experience. "You're not alone in that. I'm sure your experience as a detective has proven this. So, now, I want you think of a response to that unhealthy thought, something to counteract it, a rebuttal of sorts."

Rebuttals came naturally to Amanda, but this was hard. She knew that what Patton did to her wasn't her fault, but she didn't always believe it. That was where she decided to start. Knowing and believing were different things. She had to convince herself just like she'd convinced dozens of other survivors before, and just like she knew she'd convince dozens more in the future. "I didn't decide to be raped. I didn't choose that for myself. I was attacked, powerless. It couldn't have been my fault."

"That's great, Amanda." Both of the other people in the room smiled at her as if she'd done an adequate job. Coming up with the response wasn't impossible. Could she do it again? "That's really great. So what I want you to do between now and our next session is every time you think that what happened to you is your fault, immediately respond with your rebuttal argument, remind yourself that it couldn't have been your fault. I think that's really powerful phrasing. Eventually, when you start experiencing feelings of self-blame, instinctively the response will pop up in your mind, instantly and without effort, but it'll take some time. We're going to shift the narrative your subconscious created about your assault."

"So, if I keep telling myself it wasn't my fault," she recapped, "eventually I'll believe it wasn't?" What a relief that would be—to finally get rid of her shame for good. Was it possible? She couldn't even imagine what life would be like.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but yes. We'll combine this strategy with talk therapy, maybe some journaling, and each time we meet we'll explore different cognitions you have, and we'll work on changing how you mentally respond to them. We'll meet for twelve weeks, and then we'll re-group after that. What do you think?"

"I think—I think that I hope it works."

"Like I said, I think you're a great candidate. But," Priya decided to add, "it's important to note that this won't always come naturally to you. It'll only work for you if you work for it. I know it's hard. But that's why it's a process. You have amazing support in Olivia, and I do believe we'll have success. I won't give up on you, Amanda, that's my promise, but you also can't give up on yourself. Deal?"

She nodded, watching Liv study her. "Deal."

After they'd left, Olivia settled into the driver's seat, pulling on her seatbelt, before turning to her soon-to-be wife. "You okay?" she asked tenderly, taking a moment to wait for Amanda to nod. Once she did, the brunette smiled, squeezing her thigh lightly. "You did good today, sweetheart. I'm really proud of you." When she didn't respond, the older cop paused with the key in the ignition. "You still with me?"

The blonde sighed. "Yeah, I…I just feel pathetic. I hate that I feel this way, but I do."

"Do you think you can respond to that with a counterargument?" Liv inquired, wanting to do her part in the other woman's healing journey.

"I'm not pathetic," Amanda said, resolve building in her voice.

Olivia started the car. "Can you tell me why?"

Rollins pondered for a few moments, leaning into Liv's grounding touch. "Because seeking help when you need it is a radical act of self-love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! I know a lot of you wanted me to write this one, so I hope it meets your expectations. Would love it if you shared your thoughts with me!
> 
> Love, Justice, Peace, Light.
> 
> -Gabby


	9. "J-U-S-T-I-C-E."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is @faceinbud.   
> This is the story of how Amanda, Olivia, and Alex handle one of SVU’s first cases after Amanda becomes an ADA and Alex is sworn in as DA. Trigger warnings for case details.  
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 9: “J-U-S-T-I-C-E.”

Olivia’s phone rang shortly before three o’clock, waking both women. The SVU lieutenant reached for her cell, pressing the “accept” button and holding the device to her ear as she yawned. “Benson.”

Amanda watched as she listened carefully, her eyes becoming more awake by the second. The ADA cuddled into the other woman’s side, knowing these would be their last few moments in bed together for some time. “Need me to come with you?” she mumbled groggily into the brunette’s shoulder once she’d hung up, holding her body closer to her own as Liv’s hand landed on her head. “I can call Lucy.”

“No, love,” Benson replied softly, soaking up the embrace and massaging Amanda’s scalp. “You get a few more hours of sleep, and you can meet me at the station after you drop the kids off at school.” Josh was usually okay for a few hours in the morning, and he was more than happy to help take care of the twins, but the two women did not want the young boy to be responsible for the smaller children, as he had been in his family’s house. Olivia and Amanda had quickly set up a sitter for the little ones after they’d come to live with them, and the women paid her extra when she came over in the middle of the night with little notice.

“Okay,” Rollins agreed quietly, the idea of going back to sleep enticing, though she would have been more enthusiastic about the prospect if Liv were going to stay with her. “As long as you’re sure,” she added, kissing the cop’s cheek.

She hummed. “Yeah. I’m good.” She pressed her skin to her wife’s in one last hug, and then she quickly left the bed, pulling on clothes and grabbing her gun from the safe. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered into the blonde’s lips, pecking them quickly. “I love you.”

“Love you, baby,” the attorney mumbled, already half asleep, and the last thing she remembered before her alarm went off was the gentle closing of the bedroom door.

She was scrambling eggs in the kitchen when the teenager trudged down the stairs, the two kindergarteners on his heels. “Can I visit my mom this weekend?” he asked Amanda once he arrived in the kitchen, beginning to pack himself a lunch.

“Sure, bud,” she told him with a gentle smile, spooning eggs onto three plates. “Let me just clear it with your case worker, okay?” He nodded, going to sit at the kitchen table.

“’Manda,” Tony piped up, kneeling on a chair to get a better view of the woman, “we have a spelling test today.”

Francesca smiled, bouncing in her seat as Amanda placed plates in front of them. “We have an extra credit word this week. We get an extra point if we know how to spell it!”

She gave each child a cup of orange juice and toast—one triangle each for the twins and two for Josh. “What’s the word?”

The little girl threw her hand out in front of Tony to prevent him from stealing her spotlight. “Justice. J-U-S-T-I-C-E.”

“Very good, Chess,” the blonde praised, ruffling the child’s hair. “Do you know what that word means?”

“Fair,” Francesca said confidently.

“And right,” Tony supplied.

“It’s like what Amanda and Olivia do for work,” Josh told the five-year-olds. “They fight for justice by putting bad guys in jail.”

Tony tipped his head to the side. “Bad guys like Daddy?”

“Yes,” Amanda confirmed, nodding her head as she sipped her cup of coffee. “Bad guys like Daddy.”

“J-U-S-T-I-C-E,” the little girl recited under her breath, trying to commit the letters and their placement to memory. “J-U-S-T-I-C-E.”

When Amanda arrived at the station, she knocked on the window of the interview room, summoning Benson. She handed her a fresh cup of coffee, and the brunette grunted gratefully. “So, what do we got?” the prosecutor asked.

“Perp is Vincent Morgan,” the lieutenant reported. “Vic is Grace Curley. She works under Morgan at a local accounting firm.”

“He’s her boss?” Rollins questioned, receiving a nod.

“Yeah,” Olivia sighed, knowing Amanda was often deeply affected by cases involving a man and his subordinate. “Told her that her work wasn’t up to par, so he proposed a quid pro quo for her to keep her job. Creep was dumb enough to do it in Grace’s apartment, which she gave us permission to search.”

“What did you find?” the prosecutor questioned, hoping for something solid.

“Fluids on the bedsheets. But that doesn’t prove—”

“That doesn’t prove rape,” Amanda finished. “What about blood?”

Olivia shook her head. “None that the luminol picked up.”

“So, you’ll need a warrant for Morgan’s DNA,” the younger woman pointed out, wanting to be useful. She’d been prosecuting cases for SVU for a little over six months, and she’d won her first trial, but she did lose her next three in a row, the most recent loss being only four days old. She was hoping this would be lucky number five. “I can get that.”

“Yes, but…’Manda, you know as well as I do that DNA only proves sexual contact,” she cautioned her wife, wanting to get the brilliant wheels in her brain turning. “It could have been consensual.”

Rollins furrowed her brow. “You don’t believe her?”

“Of course I do,” Liv declared. “I’m just trying to think like a jury.”

The blonde nodded in understanding. “If we can prove the coercion…I mean, he’s her boss. There’s already a power differential.”

“I already have Fin and Carisi on the way to the workplace.”

“Okay, good,” the ADA breathed. “Where’s the vic?” she inquired after a few moments.

“I dropped her off at a hotel about an hour ago,” Benson explained gently. “The kit is being processed, and we have her statement.”

After a few more minutes of conversation surrounding the new case, Amanda wanted to take action. “Is there anything y’all need from me?” she asked, missing detective work and wishing she had more power here. She loved her job in the DA’s office, but because she was at the bottom of the totem pole, she didn’t always have much choice about what to do with particular cases. She wanted to prosecute rapists in her own way, a strategy that had won her her first case.

Her wife smiled sympathetically. Being a prosecutor with no evidence was difficult. She knew Amanda could believe Grace with her entire being, but if she couldn’t prove Morgan had threatened her, coerced her, and forced himself on her in her own bed, then the defendant was as good as not guilty, and no amount of faith in the victim could change the inevitable outcome of yet another he said/she said case. Unfortunately, a supervisor having sex with his adult subordinate wasn’t illegal, as long as consent was given. And because this was generally a verbal exchange, the evidence involved was always circumstantial. Olivia saw the pain in Rollins’s eyes. “I think we’re good for now. Maybe check with someone in the DA’s office for next steps if you’re feeling unsure of what to do next.”

Amanda saw this coming. Olivia was so protective of her, which she was grateful for and understandable of, but if she were going to be a successful prosecutor for the Sex Crimes Bureau, she needed to be trusted by the lieutenant of SVU, who also happened to be her wife. “Liv, I can do my job.”

“I know,” she acknowledged, her voice going soft as she reached out to interlock their fingers. “I’m not insinuating that you can’t. But I don’t think we’ll be getting much more evidence any time soon, and we need to figure out if she should book this guy or cut him loose.”

Amanda glanced once again into the interrogation room, where Morgan was speaking with his attorney. “Langan, huh?”

“Don’t be intimidated by him, love,” Olivia instructed gently, nudging her wife’s elbow with her own. “You have something on your side that he will never have.”

“And what’s that?” Amanda asked quietly, receiving a proud smile in response.

“The truth.”

Amanda knew she should have gone to her bureau chief first, but as her fingers hovered over the elevator buttons, she couldn’t help but push the one for the eighth floor.

She walked out into a lobby where employees were scattered around, all entranced by whatever work they were doing. She deliberately approached the person who she knew was the direct assistant to the District Attorney, introducing herself and being told to follow behind the woman, who was either an intern or a new graduate. Amanda remembered what that was like.

Three knocks on an open door announced their arrival. "Ms. Cabot, Ms. Rollins would like to see you."

Amanda heard Alex clear her throat. "Yeah, send her in. Thanks, Kristi."

"Hey," the younger blonde greeted shyly, the sense that Alex was supremely important enveloping her. It was odd to have known her on a personal level before she’d won her election, and it was a strange transition to watch the woman who routinely allowed Francesca to “braid” her hair, successfully pretending to love the results, become the most powerful prosecutor in Manhattan.

"Hey,” Cabot welcomed her to her office with a smile. Amanda had been there before, but on a social visit, not a professional one. “Remind me to tell her to just let you in from now on.”

"Nah,” she defended Kristi, “I'm a rabid fan. Gotta keep you safe."

The older woman could tell something was on her mind, and it was her fidgeting hands, downcast eyes, and hesitating in the doorway that exposed her. "What's up, Amanda?"

She sighed. Alex knew everyone’s tells. "Can I get some advice?"

"Of course.” Amanda’s most senior supervisor nodded, gesturing for the chair in front of her desk. “Shut the door. Sit."

"So, SVU has this new case," she began after a moment. “Suspect’s name is Vincent Morgan.”

"Uh huh."

"I don't think we have enough to charge the guy, but I really, really want to."

Alex pressed her lips together as she thought, recognizing so much of herself in the enthusiastic—yet inexperienced—ADA. "You just have a feeling he's guilty?"

"It's horrible, isn't it?" she asked softly, embarrassed. “I mean, I haven’t even talked to him yet. He lawyered up after Olivia asked a few questions. But these guys that hold sex over their employees’ heads—I…I lived that, Alex. And even through the one-way mirror, I could just see it in his eyes. He’s guilty.” She shrugged, waiting for the other woman’s justified reprimand. But she just sighed, empathy gracing her features. 

"Well, you're gonna need more evidence, 'Manda. If you think he's guilty, I trust you, but burden of proof is a bitch."

Burden of proof was indeed a bitch, though of course the green ADA understood its reason for existence. The last thing she wanted to do was convict an innocent man of a crime he did not commit.

But Vincent Morgan was not innocent.

She felt it in her bones. 

"That it is,” she agreed. “Did you struggle with this? Just knowing?"

Alex nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her face. "You mean survivors' intuition?"

Rollins pursed her lips as she thought for a moment, her eyes squinting in speculation. "Is that a thing?"

The DA chuckled at the funny expression her trainee was making. Alex was known for coming up with useful phrases to describe situations, and so far, “survivors’ intuition” seemed to be her best work. "It is for me. Can I tell you a story?" Amanda nodded, always more than willing to soak up any information the older blonde was willing to share with her. "One of my last cases as ADA, we had a marital rape case. You know how I get about those.”

Amanda’s head bobbed up and down. “I remember that one. There was practically no evidence at first.”

“The vic, Josie Larson, reminded me so much of myself,” Alex recounted. “And when I first interviewed her husband, he reminded me of Conrad. The thing is—as agents of the law, we have to be careful with that kind of bias, so I tried to convince myself I was just reading too much into it all.”

“But you made us keep looking.”

“I never stopped believing he raped her. Just as you saw something in Morgan’s eyes, I saw the exact opposite in Josie’s. Innocence. Fear. So much pain. I made sure to stay within the bounds of my ethical   
obligations as a representative of the people, but I wasn’t going to give up.”

“And eventually, we did find more evidence,” Amanda recalled. “It took almost a year, and you never stopped pesterin’ us about it,” she added good-naturedly.

“Video recordings of four separate assaults, as well as a journal, where he depicted his crimes in disgusting detail. All found in his vacation home upstate. He’s doing twenty-five in Sing Sing because of my pestering. I just knew. Which is why I trust that you know.” She smiled gently at the younger woman. 

“I wonder if he and Patton are friends,” Amanda posed with a nervous laugh.

“Well, if they are, this Morgan will be joining them soon. You do need to find more evidence, Amanda” she clarified, “but if you have a gut feeling, don’t stop looking until you find what you need.”

“It’s all in the name of justice, huh?” Rollins asked, giving the DA a sad smile.

Alex nodded. “Always.”

Amanda thought for a moment—about the victims she’d worked with, advocated for, about Olivia and her strength and activism, and about her kids, who were just now beginning to learn about the system that in many ways had failed them, as well as so many others. “J-U-S-T-I-C-E.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Remember, I’m still taking requests!


	10. "How should we celebrate, counselor?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is @faceinbud.  
> You guys, this is like my first chapter ever that isn’t exclusively angst. You should be proud of me; I’ve written happiness! Anyway, there will be explicit sexual content in this story. Enjoy!  
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 10: “How should we celebrate, counselor?”

“Hey, babe, where’s Josh?” Olivia asked her wife as she entered their home, finding it uncharacteristically quiet. Amanda continued to refresh her internet browser, seemingly unaware of the lieutenant’s presence. “Earth to Amanda,” the older woman sing-songed, plopping down next to the blonde. “You okay? Have the results been posted yet?”

She shook her head, realizing that Liv would interpret that as a response to her inquiring about the detective’s well-being and not the other question, so she answered verbally. “I’m fine,” she breathed, noting pressure in her chest as she spoke. “Josh is at his cousins’. Told him he probably didn’t wanna see my reaction if I fail.”

Amanda had been waiting for this moment for several years, and now that it had finally come, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to find out if she’d passed the most important test of her entire life.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here with you today,” Olivia lamented, placing her hand on her wife’s back and rubbing circles into the T-shirt she was wearing.

“It’s okay,” the younger woman assured her. “I’ve been live texting Alex, and she is thoroughly entertained by my nervousness.”

“I’m glad you’ve had someone to talk to,” Benson acknowledged, “but if the DA-elect is already being mean to you, I think I’ll have to give her a talking to,” she continued with a smile.

“She’s been nice,” the ADA-hopeful assured, “just good-natured teasing.” Amanda refreshed the page again. She’d felt fairly confident about the bar on the days she was taking it, but as time went by afterwards, her self-assurance had faltered some, and in these last few fateful moments, it had vanished completely. 

“So, is Josh sleeping over at Aaron and Cody’s?” Amanda nodded. “We have the house to ourselves tonight?” Olivia asked gently in attempt to distract the anxious woman next to her, reaching out to brush some hair behind her shoulder. 

The blonde refreshed the page, humming and leaning into her wife’s comfort. “Yeah, but don’t get too excited. I won’t exactly be fun if—” She cut herself off as the website loaded, her test results plain to see. “I passed! Oh my God, Olivia, I passed!”

The lieutenant felt Amanda relax into her entirely, and she squeezed her tightly to her body, brushing her lips against the crown of her head. “I’m so proud of you, ‘Manda,” she beamed, pulling away to get a look at the woman’s face as tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Her voice grew soft after a few seconds, Olivia’s tender fingers wiping hot droplets of water from her face. “I’m a lawyer now,” she announced somewhat distantly, testing the title on her tongue and letting out a frenzied laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God.”

“Hey, well, I need a warrant,” Benson feigned seriousness, chuckling when Amanda shoved her arm playfully.

“I have to tell Alex.” The newly barred attorney typed against the keyboard of her phone frantically, receiving a response in an instant. “‘You’re hired’,” the woman recited with a snort. “Oh, and a smiley face.”

After sending a series of laughing emojis, Rollins threw her computer and cell phone to the side, turning her attention to Olivia. “You have to call me ‘counselor’ now, lieutenant,” she declared, pulling herself onto her wife’s lap and smirking mischievously. 

The older woman was more than happy to play along. “Well, then, how should we celebrate, counselor?” she stressed, resting her hands on the other woman’s hips.

“Hmm,” Amanda pondered, interlocking her fingers against the nape of Liv’s neck. “Maybe a little of this?” She leaned down to brush her lips against her wife’s, barely just teasing her with the contact before pulling away. “Or maybe this?” She reattached her lips to the brunette’s, her fingernails scratching against the woman’s scalp as she felt a pair of hands grip tightly onto her. “You got any ideas?”

Olivia chuckled breathlessly. “I like this idea,” she admitted, one hand moving up the blonde’s back and tangling into her hair and the other shifting in position to migrate lower so that Liv could use her fingers to caress the area right below where her pants began. “But are you sure you’re up for it? I know it’s been a stressful day.”

Unofficially hired ADA Rollins smiled softly, appreciating the opportunity to consider if she was in the right mindset for sex. They were usually okay, but stress did exacerbate Amanda’s PTSD symptoms,  
and so sometimes excessive carefulness was warranted. “I’m good, I promise,” she whispered against Olivia’s forehead, the brunette’s lips quickly pecking her nose as they held each other close. “I’m happy,” she voiced aloud, a few more tears coming to her eyes. “And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Benson breathed, catching the droplets at the precipice of her eyelids. “Do you want to go to the bedroom?”

Amanda nodded and went to stand up, but Liv tightened her grip on her. “You wanna see some skills?” she questioned, grinning, before rising from the couch and supporting the woman she loved in her arms as she began to walk towards their room.

Desire shot through the blonde’s entire body at both the strength and the care her wife was showing in this moment. “Yeah, that’s hot,” she acknowledged, wrapping her legs tightly around Liv’s hips in order to assist her. 

The two women laughed as Olivia carefully laid her on the bed, settling in next to her. “You could do that too if you ate more spinach,” the brunette joked.

“Okay, enough of that,” Amanda decided, pulling the still chuckling woman on top of her. “Less posturing, more kissing.” 

The brunette connected their lips, wasting no more time before allowing her tongue to ask for entrance into the warmth of Rollins’s mouth, both of them sighing in relief at the new intensity of the connection. Amanda’s hands wandered over the muscles of Olivia’s back and shoulder blades, quickly making eye contact with the woman above her before pulling off her work shirt. 

Quickly, Liv rolled them over so that her wife was now on top, and she let her own hands move beneath the shirt she was wearing, using raised eyebrows to ask for permission to remove it. Amanda nodded eagerly, assisting in freeing herself of one of their barriers to skin to skin contact, before once again flipping them. Amanda would not have expected to love the feeling of her wife lying on top of her so much, especially after what she’d gone through, but the pressure of it was grounding and it almost forced her body to stay in the moment. Like she’d told the woman several years earlier, the lieutenant was unmistakably Olivia, and the blonde felt secure in that knowledge.

The sensation and emotion Olivia was capable of pulling out of her was still breathtaking to the younger woman, something she knew she’d never be able to comprehend. How the want could mix so effortlessly with the love, neither detracting from the other, both working together to create something more than “sex” or even “making love” could describe. It was connection, unadulterated, and as Amanda felt the brunette’s fingers dance along her ribcage, she smiled, breaking the kiss.

“You alright, counselor?” Liv smirked, her nails lightly scratching at the skin below her hand, making Amanda squirm. 

“You’re the worst!” she accused with a laugh before sobering. “I’m just grateful for you. You know how it goes.”

“I do,” the other woman agreed. “Bra off?” she asked gently, “Or do you want to take it more slowly?”

Amanda reached behind her wife’s back, letting her fingers move over the clasps of her bra. “I’m good. You good?”

Olivia bobbed her head up and down, waiting to shrug her undergarment off before maneuvering them through one last flip and helping Amanda expose the entirety of the upper portion of her body. “Will you do me a favor?” she inquired softly, letting her fingers dance along Amanda’s collarbone. The blonde offered a nod. “Will you let me just take care of you tonight? I want to take it slow and really focus on you. You’ve been so stressed, studying and working hard. You deserve to just relax and feel good for a little while. What do you think?”

“Is that…” Amanda stammered, still fighting to believe this is something her wife would desire, “…is that something you want to do?”

The brunette smiled lovingly, acknowledging the other woman’s constant struggle. She moved her hand up to cradle the detective’s face, nuzzling her nose against her neck and pressing her lips to her pulse point, smiling when the beat underneath her lips accelerated. “I have been dreaming of the chance to worship your body for years. I just know you get uncomfortable after a while.”

“I’m sorry. I—”

“I wasn’t searching for an apology,” the older woman assured her. “I just need you to understand that I want to do this for you. It’s as much for me as it is for you. But it’s your choice. I know it would be intense for you, so if you don’t want that right now—”

“I do want that,” she declared with a shy smile, surprised by the truth of her own words. “I really love our intimacy. It’s just, you know, I’m still healing, and sometimes it’s hard for me to reconcile the idea of just receiving. It doesn’t mean I don’t want it though, especially if you do.”

“We could try, and if it’s too much…” Olivia proposed, gingerly moving her wife’s chin so their eyes would meet. Blue eyes had darkened considerably, and she just nodded, swallowing hard. “Do you want to talk about it first?”

She shook her head vigorously. “I need you,” she croaked, the care and passion of their preceding conversation travelling straight to her clit, anticipation building within her as she realized it would likely be some time before Olivia directed her attention to the throbbing between her legs.

“Let’s just take off the rest of your clothes first,” Liv suggested, her voice soothing. The older woman didn’t want any obstacles in her way of what she’d planned to do, and she certainly didn’t want any interruptions.

After Amanda had been freed of her pants and underwear, the older woman rested her forehead against hers. “So, what I’m wanting to do,” she explained softly, both of her hands framing her wife’s face, “is kiss you. Express my love for you through physical affection—and sexual contact, if it turns out you’re up for that too.” Rollins smiled at the prospect, a low churning in her stomach adding to the need growing between her legs. Olivia loved her more than anything, and she knew the woman always wanted to provide her with evidence of that. “And of course, we can stop whenever you want to. Okay?”

Amanda reached up to cradle the back of her wife’s head, whispering, “Okay,” and bringing their lips together. She noticed the older woman letting her knee rest in between her legs, purposefully keeping its distance from her overheated core. Even her teasing was loving, patient, and the frustration she had been previously feeling gave way to calm as Liv’s mouth peppered kisses along her neck and collarbone, her fingers dancing along her sides and abdomen. 

Benson took her time with each area of Amanda’s upper body, each brush of her lips and every caress reverent in nature, whispers of adoration and love following the touches in their journey. After she’d given attention to each of her breasts, Olivia smiled at the heaving of her chest, pressing her lips to the projection at the bottom of her ribcage, letting her tongue jut out as she breathed hotly against the already damp skin. 

The blonde hummed in approval as her wife’s fingernails scratched careful lines into her sides, creating circles on her hips as the older woman’s body moved lower, dipping her tongue into Amanda’s navel. “I love you,” she promised, her voice soft, as the soon-to-be ADA arched into the touch, feeling wetness accumulate in her folds. 

Amanda’s mind moved at the speed of light, her struggle against self-consciousness muted by moments of pure pleasure. Liv’s hands had travelled to her inner thighs, coaxing the muscles there to relax as her lips and tongue met the younger woman’s right hip. Sensing some tension, Olivia paused her ministrations to brush her nose against the sheen of sweat forming just above the patch of yellow curls.  
“Stop thinking,” she encouraged lovingly. “This is okay,” she vowed, letting her lust-filled orbs gaze up at her wife’s. “If you don’t want to go farther—”

“I do,” the detective interrupted. “I trust you to take care of me.” Her fingers tangled into the other woman’s hair as she gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m just struggling to be patient with myself.”

“I know,” Olivia told her, settling in between her wife’s legs so that she was no longer subconsciously pulling her closer. “I see those wheels turning. You’re doing great. I’m proud of how far you’ve come here. But sweetheart, part of letting me take care of you is letting yourself be taken care of, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So, since you don’t want to stop, here’s what we can do,” she offered, her lips pecking the uppermost area of Amanda’s inner thigh, watching her legs quake with need. “I can come back up there, and we can talk through everything like we usually do. Or, I can stay down here and keep doing this, which—”

“—is what I want,” the blonde finished for her. About two years after her assault, Amanda had first allowed her wife to go down on her again, something she’d been wanting for a while, but didn’t quite know how to ask for. It had been their reddest of red lights, for multiple reasons, but she’d so missed the intimacy that it provided. The vulnerability of allowing Olivia to touch her in that way was scary, but the idea of it was beautiful. It had taken a few times for the younger woman to be comfortable enough to let go and fully enjoy it, and it wasn’t an activity they did often, even to the day Amanda had passed the bar, but it was something they saved for special occasions—when Amanda was overcome with the need to feel Olivia’s love in a way that no other type of touch could achieve. 

Liv nodded. “Then, that’s what we’ll do,” she concluded. “Anything in particular you’re wanting?”

Amanda shook her head, laying back against the pillow and sighing. “You know what I like,” she reminded her. She knew that Olivia managed her own anxiety by asking her if she was okay as often as possible, and the idea of them just being together, words not needed, as the detective gave herself permission to surrender completely to Liv’s touch was mind-numbingly inviting. “I just want to be taken care of.”

Benson figured this would be Amanda’s response. If she were going to completely give in and let go, Liv would need to verbally check in with her as little as possible, though of course there was only so much of that the two women could avoid, and both of them were more than aware of that reality. The brunette smiled, gently coaxing Amanda’s left leg away from her right while placing kisses against the skin she was exposing around the apex of her thighs. “I do still want you to tell me if I need to change something.”

Rollins understood. It was their most important rule. Feedback. Feedback. Feedback. She interlocked their hands in acknowledgement. Because sometimes in the throes of ecstasy and connection, she was at a loss for words, she often used a squeeze to Olivia’s hand as a way of communicating that she felt good and she felt safe. 

The first thing Amanda registered as far as sensation was Liv’s right hand massaging her inner thigh, something she often did to offset the stiffness of the appendage. It was soothing, her touch gentle, as the movement of her fingers told the skin below them that it was okay to relax, that it was safe. 

Soon after, the younger of the two felt her wife add her lips to the careful ministrations, her mouth giving attention to one thigh and her hand working on the other, all in effort to ground Amanda in advance of more explicitly sexual attention being given to her body. 

Her eyes closed softly as Olivia’s tongue slowly traced the crease to the right of her sex and then the one to the left, a soft moan escaping her as Liv hummed in acknowledgment. “I love you,” she whispered into wet curls, her lips connecting with the beginning of the split of her outer labia. She peppered kisses along the slit that was beginning to glisten, hearing a small whimper above her as the teasing brush pushed inadequately against her pulsating clit. She squeezed Amanda’s hand, putting to use a system they’d specifically created for the unique challenges brought on by oral sex. One squeeze was the question—“Are you okay?”—unspoken between them. A firm squeeze in response—“Yes.” 

Sufficiently appeased, Olivia’s tongue protruded beyond her lips to trace the same path she’d just travelled, adding some extra pressure and some more varied movements. When her measured touches stopped, Amanda opened her eyes, her chest heaving as wave after wave of pressure moved through beckoning warmth. “Liv.” It came out as a soft whine. 

“I’m right here,” the older woman murmured, using her right hand to gingerly separate her wife’s labia, pressing her lips just barely to the head of Amanda’s clit.

“Jesus,” she hissed. Olivia always drew this out. She had a little ritual. Before she committed to the task at hand, the woman always kissed her clit and her entrance, something that the blonde imagined was more for Liv than for herself, but she was more than happy to allow her wife to do whatever made her feel most comfortable. Amanda felt the older woman smile against her skin, her nose gently nuzzling against her pubic hair as she felt the lieutenant drink her in with her eyes, before migrating downward.

She let her lips linger in a chaste kiss against a small patch of skin by her entrance that was differently textured due to scar tissue, an area that Amanda often felt self-conscious about. Olivia gripped onto Amanda’s hand, a reminder of love and safety, relieved when her singular grip was returned. The blonde’s breath caught in her throat. It was as if the silent “I love you” on Liv’s lips had travelled through her body, reaching its final resting place inside of her heart. Though a blush threatened to dominate her cheeks, the warmth of the feelings rioting through her was stronger, and she sighed audibly as Olivia once again pressed her lips to her entrance in a barely there closed-mouth kiss. 

The longtime SVU detective was always blown away by Amanda’s beauty in these moments, by her trust, bravery, and courage—to allow herself to connect in this way to her wife was nothing short of miraculous. And it was a hard-earned privilege for both of them to lie in the bed together and bring each other to blissful oblivion. Olivia couldn’t imagine an honor more incredible. 

She increased the pressure of her lips against sodden flesh for a few moments, three squeezes in a row on Amanda’s part serving as a request for more. Liv moved her hand into a better position, once again parting beautiful folds before flattening her tongue against them, stilling her movements until she felt her wife relax below her. She trailed her tongue from her opening to her clit, letting it rest against the underside of the sensitive nub, quick pulses stimulating her most sensitive area. 

Amanda felt the urge to pull away from the intensity, not because she wasn’t enjoying it, but because Olivia’s undivided attention and care was slightly disconcerting. She inhaled deeply, determined to breath through the discomfort as her wife grounded her firmly to reality and made her feel impossibly taken care of. Feeling the shift in body language, the lieutenant squeezed her wife’s hand twice in quick succession—“Do you want to stop?” Amanda shook her head, adding two bursts of pressure with her fingers—“No.”

After one more chaste kiss against her clit, the blonde felt Olivia carefully wrap her lips around the pointed head, soft swirls of her tongue adding to the heaven of gentle sucking. Before Olivia, Amanda had never experienced the tenderness of being touched in this way, Liv’s motivation being twofold—to bring her pleasure and to bring her comfort. It created a whirlwind of emotions, and if Amanda thought about it too deeply, instead of just focusing on the moment, her connection to reality became unstable. So she just took the love at face value, directing her mind towards to the places Olivia’s body and her own met. 

She felt her wife’s right hand move, two fingers rubbing at her opening in order to increase sensation. For some reason, the change jarred the younger woman, and she squeezed Olivia’s hand twice—“No.” 

The brunette immediately pulled away from Amanda, her eyes darting upwards in search of piercing blues, which had snapped open. “Hey,” she cooed softly. “Did you think—I would never unless you asked first.”

Amanda swallowed, the loss of contact causing her hips to rock of their own accord, and the woman was embarrassed by her reaction to Liv’s actions and the fact that she was behaving in such a desperate manner. “I know,” she replied quickly, blushing. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“You’re fine, love. Sometimes you just get nervous and don’t exactly know why. Do you need to check in a little?”

“I’m honestly okay,” the blonde sighed, the fire in her body raging on. “Just maybe keep your fingers—you know?”

Benson smiled softly, squeezing their still joined hands and using her other one to put some grounding pressure on her hip. “Absolutely. As long as you know that I wasn’t going to do anything but massage you, okay? I know our system—no penetration unless you ask for it.”

The detective nodded. Their trigger plan had grown in size over the years, and as such, it had also grown in effectiveness. “I’m fine to keep goin’.” She tangled her fingers into brunette locks again, offering a confident grin. “Just had a moment.”

“Moments happen,” Liv whispered into Amanda’s skin before once again pressing a kiss to the blonde’s clit. This was the starting line, how Amanda knew the sensations would grow in intensity so she could be prepared for them. The SVU lieutenant looked up once more at her love, wanting to give her another explicit opportunity to slam on the brakes if needed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Three squeezes to Olivia’s hand—“More.” 

She pulled the other woman’s clit into her mouth again, humming against her, causing vibrations to shoot through Amanda’s body, a moan leaving the back of her throat. Liv hummed again in comfort, knowing her wife was often embarrassed by these reactions. The blonde squeezed her hand once, and Olivia returned the gesture, ensuring the fingers of her right hand were used only to give herself access to the skin below her.

Soon, Amanda felt the coil low in her abdomen begin, the urge to buck into her wife’s mouth stronger than ever, but she allowed herself to give into the desire, her legs both going entirely slack  
against the bed as she felt Liv bring her over the crest of wave after wave of pleasure, gentle lips helping her ride the intensity of what she was feeling. The crescendo was accompanied by silence in her own head, peace settling over her limbs as her fingers relaxed in Olivia’s hair. And when the storm of sensation turned into a calm breeze, Rollins communicated that she was okay with one squeeze to Liv’s fingers. 

Not the type to abandon ritual, Olivia turned her attention to her wife’s inner thighs, adorning sweaty skin with sweet kisses, saving a lingering brush of her lips against Amanda’s entrance for last. 

The younger woman’s eyes were lidded when Liv returned to her, and Amanda buried her face into her neck, wrapping her arms around her wife’s bare form. “God, I love you,” she whispered, still breathless from the power of her release. 

“I love you more,” the brunette insisted, pressing her lips to a temple and brushing some hair out of Amanda’s face.

“Objection,” she muttered into the older woman’s shoulder. “Lacks foundation.”

Olivia’s brow furrowed as she nudged her wife’s chin upwards so that their eyes would meet. “How so, counselor?”

The blonde thought for a moment. “Ask me, later. I’m too tired.” 

Benson chuckled. “You are formidable, Ms. Rollins,” she said sarcastically, earning a weak shove.

“I’m the luckiest woman in the world,” the new attorney argued, her wife challenging her to prove it as she ran her fingers through yellow hair. “Exhibit A. I have you. I rest my case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! I am still taking requests, and also here is a reminder that I’m currently working on Stay, my Alex/Olivia fanfiction that I’m extremely proud of, so feel free to take a look!  
> -Gabby


	11. "Put him in jail!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about my stories or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is @faceinbud.   
> I’m so proud of myself for planning an almost exclusively fluffy snippet. There’s a scene of deep conversation between Francesca and Alex though that may be triggering. Sorry for the sporadic nature of these updates. I start my internship at a domestic violence shelter in two weeks, so that’s probably not going to change.   
> I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a TRIGGER WARNING to anyone who is especially sensitive to the subject of sexual assault. ANGST TO COME!

First Degree Snippets  
One-Shot 11: “Put him in jail!”

“Alex, thank you so much for doin’ this for us,” Amanda said quickly upon opening the door, and then she hastily wrapped a ponytail holder around her blonde hair. “Lucy’s worked so much this week, and I’d hate to make her come back today.”

“Of course,” the older woman replied, stepping into the house. “I love the munchkins. And you and Liv deserve a day for your anniversary.”

“Thank you, Al,” the ADA told her most senior boss. “They shouldn’t be too hard today. Tony is easily entertained with one of the educational games on his iPad. He’ll play the math one for hours. Chess has a playdate next door. The neighbor’s little girl, Mia, is super sweet. She usually walks over and rings the doorbell. Just walk them back over to her house. Mia’s mom, Sophia, has your phone number and knows you’re here today.” Amanda led Alex into the uncharacteristically quiet kitchen, where she had been packing a picnic for her and her wife’s hike. “And Josh pretty much does his own thing. Just makes sure he eats. I’m leaving you my credit card for dinner. Get whatever y’all want.”

Cabot nodded. “How are you feeling…about Josh going home next month?” she asked after a moment.

The prosecutor sighed. “Conflicted. I mean, his mom is doing really well, and they need to be together, but he’s been with us for almost two years. Ultimately, we’re happy for him, and the goal is reunification, so we’ll be okay. But it’s not going to be easy.”

Alex knew she’d miss him too. “Will you be able to stay in contact?”

“We’re not sure,” Amanda told the other woman, biting her lip. “We have a decent relationship with his mom, so we hope so, but things change, and he doesn’t get a choice in the matter until he’s eighteen, so…”

Benson came padding down the stairs, two almost six-year-olds on her heels.

“Hey, Liv. Hey kiddos,” she greeted with a semi-awkward smile. She had full faith in her ability to keep three children alive for a few hours, but she wasn’t used to being surrounded by so many people.   
Amanda and Olivia’s family were her family now, and it was strange to be so acutely aware of that.

“Alex, did you know that I’m playing with Mia today?” Francesca questioned excitedly, bouncing on her heels.

“I did! Amanda told me. Are you excited?”

“Uh huh! Mia is my bestest friend! But Tony doesn’t like her that much.”

Cabot kneeled down to be at eye level with the little boy, whose expression did border on something that resembled jealousy, as Olivia wrapped her arms around Amanda from behind. “And why is that?”

“She plays with Mia more than she plays with me,” he said, his eyes darting to the lunch his foster mother was packing, completely moving on within seconds. “Can we have pizza for dinner?”

Alex ruffled his hair, standing up. “We’ll talk about it later, bud.”

All three women chuckled as the two little ones raced each other into the living room, turning on the TV to watch some cartoons. “Aw man, they make me feel old,” Alex lamented with a laugh.

“You feel old?” the brunette challenged incredulously. “I’ve been married for six years!” She squeezed her wife close to her, kissing her cheek. 

“Hey, don’t imply that I’m old,” Rollins accused light-heartedly. “I’ve also been married for six years, and I’m younger than both of you.”

“Okay, that’s valid,” Liv relented, kissing the younger blonde once more before walking towards the picnic basket to examine Amanda’s work.

“Happy anniversary, you guys,” the district attorney congratulated her friends. 

Olivia hugged her. “Thank you, Al. We really appreciate you hanging out with our little heathens for the day.”

“No worries. Like I told your wife, you two work so incredibly hard, and you’re amazing parents. You deserve some time to yourselves. Stay out as long as you want.”

“In that case,” Amanda joked, “we might even get a hotel.”

“Oh, don’t go too crazy. Unfortunately, this offer does have a time limit. It’s not like bad guys are going to stop bad guy-ing just because it’s your anniversary. So, get out of here.” She ushered the women out of the house, going to sit on the couch next to the twins.

“So, where’s Josh?” she asked.

Both kids continued to stare at the TV. “He’s doing homework,” Tony said monotonously, but the statement garnered Chess’s attention.

She gasped, turning towards the attorney. “Alex, did you know that in high school, teachers make you do homework on Saturday? You should put Josh’s teacher in jail!” Tony nodded in agreement, the   
cartoon forgotten.

“For what?” Alex laughed, knowing the little girl would come up with something.

“For being mean to kids,” she replied obviously. “Saturdays are for fun, not for school. Put him in jail, so there can be justice!” she shouted, remembering the extra credit spelling word she’d learned   
several months before. 

“I mean, that’s a pretty solid argument, Chess,” she indulged the child. “How about I do your hair and you tell me more about it?”

The little girl nodded happily. “But only if you promise to put him in jail.”

Cabot smiled. “That’s not entirely up to me, sweetheart.”

“She’s right,” Tony told his sister emphatically. “It’s up to a draw-y.” Had he been eavesdropping on his moms’ conversations?

“But,” Chess protested, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re the boss of all the bad guys.”

“Not quite, sweet girl. I wish.”

“Alright,” the passionate child gave up, standing and reaching her hand out to Alex. “Can I do your hair too?”

The DA’s hair was in a dignified up do, and if anyone else had requested to do so much as touch it, it would have been an unequivocal no, but Francesca’s pouty lip and pleading eyes had an uncanny effect on her. She took the child’s hand and nodded. “And T, after Chess goes to Mia’s house, do you want to watch a movie? Maybe Josh will join us for a bit.”

“I’m tellin’ you, ‘Lex,” the boy insisted now that his sister had effectively dropped the charges against the Algebra teacher, “he can’t watch a movie ‘til his teacher goes to jail.”

“Well, we’ll ask him anyway, okay?”

After the young girl had led the woman into her bedroom, showing her her purple brush and ponytail holders in assorted colors, she asked her which color the attorney wanted. “I’ll take blue,” she told   
her. 

Francesca delicately removed the clip from Alex’s long hair, running her fingers through the flaxen tresses. “Pretty,” she commented, deciding after she brushed it to twirl her hair up into the same style it had been in before, sensing that the woman would appreciate that. 

“Thank you, Chess,” she said carefully, breaking their silence. The child asked for a small pink band and asked for a braid, and then she turned her back to Alex.

“Alex?” she asked quietly as the experienced prosecutor began to brush her hair.

“Yes, honey?”

“How do you put bad guys in jail?”

“You mean, like Josh’s teacher?” she clarified softly.

“No, like,” she said somberly, “like real bad guys.” Chess had come a long way concerning her ability to be a kid and enjoy life, and anyone who knew the little girl would say that her laughter and smile lit   
up a room, but she still had a rather serious side, a sad side, something that only came out when she was with adults she trusted, using a rather extensive vocabulary for her age, and her traumatic early childhood always lingered in her mind, just under the surface.

“Well,” Cabot started slowly, “it’s a really long process.”

“Is that why Daddy went to jail a long time after we started to live here?”

“Yes, baby. That’s why.” Alex separated the child’s hair into three parts, grateful that she didn’t have to look her in the eye. Being emotional was still tough for the woman, and being so vulnerable with a   
child survivor was something that always made her uncomfortable. And being open with Chess, a child that she loved dearly, was even harder. “Putting someone in prison takes proving that they did something bad, and you have to prove it to lots of people.”

“How many? Five?”

“More than five,” she told her, finishing up her braid.

“Alex?” she questioned, receiving a hum in response. “I have a bad guy, ‘Manda has a bad guy. ‘Livia said she has a bad guy. Do you have a bad guy?”

Did this child believe that everyone had a bad guy? “Yes, Chess. I do have a bad guy.” She selected a pink band to put around the little girl’s thick hair.

She turned around, placing her hand on the woman’s cheek, something she’d seen Amanda and Olivia do while they were talking about something important. “Is your bad guy in jail?”

Alex was at a loss for words for a few moments. The wisdom in Francesca’s eyes begged for the truth, but the innocence in her features gave the prosecutor pause. Did she really need to know that the   
justice she’d come to care so much about was often times a faraway dream? After all she’d been through, would a comforting lie be helpful or detrimental to her developing sense of right and wrong?

Chess dropped her hand. “Alex? Why do you look like you’re gonna cry?”

Cabot quickly wiped away her threatening tears. There wasn’t an appropriate handbook for speaking to children with this much life experience. “Because I think you’re really smart, and I care about you, Francesca. People don’t only cry when they’re sad. They cry when they’re feeling a whole bunch of things.”

She thought for some time. “Your bad guy isn’t in jail, is he?” It barely sounded like a question.

“No, Francesca. He’s not in jail.”

After Alex had walked the two little girls over to The Lupino residence, she returned to Tony, who had fallen asleep on the couch. Olivia had mentioned in a text that the boy had skipped nap time. She carefully carried the child to his bed, knocking on Josh’s bedroom door afterwards. “Hey,” she greeted him after he’d given her permission to enter. “I was going to watch a movie with Tony, but he fell asleep on me. Do you want to take a math break?”

“I wish I could,” he told her. “I want to spend as much time with you all as possible, but I need to get an A in this class if I want to get into a good school. I’m going to be the first person in my family to go to college, you know.”

“That’s great, Josh!” Alex praised him. “We’re all really proud of you, bud. Well, except for Chess. She’s more appalled than anything else.”

The teenager chuckled. “Yeah, she’s been on that for months. Thinks my Algebra teacher needs to go to jail for his crimes. She’s a really smart kid. So is Tony. I’m glad they have Olivia and Amanda. They’ve been so amazing.” He put his pencil down, looking melancholy. 

“I have to say,” Alex said to him, sitting down on a chair by his desk, “you’re pretty great too. And,” she added, “it’s okay to be excited about going back home and sad that you’re leaving here at the same time. Olivia and Amanda are grown-ups, and they know that there’s not a limited amount of love in the world. You can love all three of the women who’ve raised you. I know they all love you. And so do I.”

“Geez, Cabot,” the boy laughed, trying to stifle a sniffle. “You’re getting soft.”

She pointed a finger at him. “If you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Rain check on the movie?”

“I would like that. Hey, do you need any help with your homework?”

He dismissed her from the obligation she was fearing. “It’s just math.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” she said in mock offense. “You’re a genius. One more thing, and then I’ll leave you be. What do you want for dinner?”

“Oh, I’m not picky,” he replied with a shrug. “But watch out for the wrath of Tony.”

She clicked her tongue in amusement. “Got it. Thanks.”

When Chess returned home, it was time for a dinner conference, both little kids demanding pizza. “Guys, pizza isn’t even that great,” she claimed. She thought for a few seconds. “Do you guys like sushi?”

Josh just covered his mouth as he laughed, but Tony took the plunge. “What is a sushi?”

The older boy stopped Alex from responding in earnest. “He just wants to know if you can put it on pizza.”

Eventually, Alex relented, ordering cheese and pepperoni pizza for the kids, and artichoke and spinach pizza for herself. She hadn’t redone Chess’s hairstyle, and it was falling out now, as the child’s less than nimble fingers didn’t allow much stability or security for the clip to stay in place.

As they ate, Francesca took some pepperoni off her pizza, preferring to eat the salty circles plain. Josh, a devious planner, waited until the little girl had only one piece left before quickly stealing it and putting it in his mouth.

Chess looked around immediately to see if there were witnesses. Tony was still totally engrossed in his meal, but Alex had caught the theft out of the corner of her eye. The child pointed accusingly at her foster brother. “Put him in jail!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! For those of you who are not reading my Cabenson/Calex/AO story “Stay”, I would highly recommend it. I’m super proud of it. Also, tomorrow is my 22nd birthday, so I’d love some birthday reviews! Love you guys!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Updates on these will be sporadic, but feel free to request one-shots from this universe. I’m sure ratings with vary, but I’m going to publish it as T and go from there. Chapter 3 of Stay should be up soon.


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